The Implausible Couple
by liltrix
Summary: They weren't supposed to actually like each other or anything. They weren't supposed to work. What Samtana would be like if they were not just a plot device. Story picks up especially around chapter five. Rated T just in case.
1. Stupidly Endearing

**A/N:** Okay, I haven't written a serious fanfic for about four years. xD So forgive me if it's not the greatest. But I really wanted to write some Samtana, because honestly, I love the idea of those two, and I wish the writers would actually give them some real substance instead of just using them as plot device (which is probably all they'll be). I feel like they could be really sweet together, and different and interesting. I know I'm in the minority here, haha. Anyway, I figured I should write a fanfic for them since I love the pairing, and there's barely any Samtana fics.

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She was only going out with him out of boredom, because she wanted to mess things up for Quinn, and she was lonely when her only real friend was off with her boyfriend all the time.

He was only going out with her to spite Quinn, the girl who had cheated on him and lied about it.

They weren't supposed to actually _like_ each other or anything.

So when Santana actually found herself laughing at Sam's stupid jokes or his geeky references, she started to feel worried. And when she found herself spending time with him, and really just _spending time_, and not just making out or fooling around (they haven't actually had sex yet), she got even more concerned.

Santana Lopez was not supposed to like the guy she was dating.

Granted, any male graced with the change to revel in her expertise at sexual pleasure should definitely be entirely grateful. Obviously.

For Santana, there should be no… _emotions_ involved. Santana didn't really do that emotional stuff. Of course, she loved Brittany, her long time best friend, and sometimes she'd get caught up in the whole letting your emotions out thing that Glee club was all about (and okay, she really did like that part about it, she was serious when she'd said it was the best part of her day).

But for Santana, her "love life" consisted of _making_ love. She'd never actually had a boyfriend where she had strong feelings for. Sure, Puck had been her friend for a long time, and she did care about him, but not in a mushy way. She only did it with him or fooled around when they were both bored, and she only was possessive of him because she felt like she was entitled to that.

Though deep down, she knew she wasn't entitled to anything.

Before Sam had broken up with Quinn, on Valentine's Day at Breadstix, Santana had shared a glance with Sam, and sure, it felt like they had connected. But connected to Santana was just that they shared an attraction, nothing more, and she knew she'd be on him sooner or later, and be feeling up those abs she was sure were stone-hard. It was honestly all she had in mind. There wasn't going to be any…_feelings_ and shit.

She hadn't expected him to try to make conversation with her. It wasn't usually how Santana's relationships had gone.

"Santana, I am _telling_ you, it is the most legendary movie series you'll ever see. I can't believe you haven't seen them before." Sam was ranting about Star Wars, something that Santana had both surprisingly and not surprisingly never bothered to try, despite all the popularity. Sam had looked at her incredulously when she had said she wasn't interested.

"Sam, please," Santana interrupted harshly, starting to get pissed off. "When I said I want on those froggy lips, I meant I wanted to be _on_ them, not listening to them yapping about this stupid nerdy shit I don't care about, and never will. We're not supposed to be friends, we're not conversation buddies, and I'm not interested in your stupid obsessions. I'm not Quinn, okay? I know you're only going out with me 'cause you want to get over Miss Perfect Blondie, and you_ know_ what I'm only interested in."

Sam looked hurt, and Santana felt a pang of something- guilt? regret? She never felt regret for hurting people's feelings.

"I'm... sorry, San," Sam said reproachfully, and Santana was taken aback. Since when had he started calling her San?

Suddenly she didn't want to talk anymore in fear of actually getting into a serious conversation, because it looked like Sam was going to say something about Santana's unfortunate habit of putting up walls every time he tried engage in actually getting to know her (walls that were becoming less and less prominent and Santana had to fix that _some_how- if she hurt the boy's feelings, so be it).

And it wasn't like she was going to tell him that it was because she was actually afraid if they got too close she might start to _like_ him or something- so instead she pushed her lips on his, messily entangled her hands through his hair, and silenced him the way she knew how to silence boys best.

* * *

It was another day in Glee club, before class had started. Sam had yet to come to class. Santana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. After Rachel had stood up to her last week, she had become less and less at ease being around the other Glee members. She knew she was harsh, but hell, she was Santana, the biggest bitch in the school, and she'd honestly thought that the Glee members had accepted her for it. She'd thought they'd seen past her catty, mean exterior and liked her. Maybe she wasn't exactly chummy with all of them, but she didn't think they all _resented_ her so much.

So without Sam by her side, Santana had no idea why- it was just another normal day, and she was Santana fucking Lopez, she wasn't supposed to feel vulnerable- but she started to get nervous. She started to feel weirdly panicked. Santana hated feeling alone. She hated feeling like that one stupid person in the room who wasn't talking to anyone- she hated feeling like an outsider when she was better than all of them (except for Brittany). But Brittany was busy sitting on the other side the row and talking to Artie. She crossed her arms, and her heart started pounding.

Then Sam walked in.

She instantly felt a rush of relief and almost felt like breaking out into a genuine smile- which confused the hell out of her. He took his seat next to her, smiled that goofy grin of his, which Santana found infuriatingly endearing. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her heart resumed its normal pace, and she leaned on him a little.

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**A/N: Reviews are appreciated, since I haven't written a fic in so long :D**


	2. Sometimes, She Cried

The first time Sam saw Santana cry, it was after Glee rehearsal one day.

Well, it wasn't the absolute _first_ time. At Rachel's party she had been crying practically the whole night (it was established that she was indeed a weepy drunk). When she wasn't trying to bite his head off with insults, or kissing him (a strange contrast of actions Sam had gotten used to), she was sobbing her eyes out, and Sam knew it was just an effect of the alcohol.

The Glee club had decided to rehearse and plan for Regionals after school. Not all of them had even shown up. It was obviously Rachel's idea. Sam had gone because he was bored, and knew Santana had shown up probably because she also didn't have anything better to do (and besides, he knew she secretly really enjoyed show choir).

After the rehearsal ended, the others were piling in their cars to go home. Sometimes Sam gave Santana a ride home, but today he assumed she was leaving with Brittany. Before unlocking his car he realized he'd forgotten a textbook in the choir room. It was after he turned the corner in the school hallway that he saw her, and he stopped in astonishment, before hastily backtracking. He peered around the corner again, watching her cautiously.

She was sitting with her knees up and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her dark waves were messily spilling over her shoulders, her shoulders shaking, her face all scrunched up, her mascara running down her face. Her sobs were quiet, but heaving.

Sam realized then that Santana didn't cry pretty. Some girls did, like Quinn: the way her cheeks got delicately pink, her eyes only slightly red, and even if she was sobbing, it was in a feminine, un-harsh way.

But Santana let her guard down when she cried- and didn't think anyone was looking. Her nose was close to running, the rims of her eyes swollen and puffy, her makeup streaming across her cheeks. Sam considered in quiet amusement what she would do if she knew he was watching her like this. She'd probably freak out on him. But the amusement was short lived as he realized how emotionally _raw_ she seemed. He had never seen her so...broken. He had the surprising and overwhelming urge to go out and comfort her, to hold her.

But he knew she would put her walls up again; she didn't want anyone seeing her like this when she was sober (and it was probably only Brittany who would normally comfort her anyway- Sam realized she must be off with Artie). He knew Santana would tense up immediately in defense- that she would hate him for pitying her, seeing her cry so much while she wasn't drunk. He didn't know what she was crying about- but he wanted to know. He guessed maybe it had to do with Rachel calling her out as a bitch last week. He realized she didn't really have many friends, and probably took refuge in the Glee club. It was probably a slap in the face to know she was mostly disliked there too.

So he wanted to go put his arm around her, tell her some things that would have probably made Quinn laugh but Santana scoff in annoyance. Rub her shoulder in a way that would have made Quinn nestle into him, and Santana pull away in concealed embarrassment. He wanted to go tell her that he could be there for her- if she let him. To tell her that even though she was a bitch, she was still pretty awesome. Hell, he thought maybe he was even starting to _like_ her (which frankly scared him a little)- it was most certainly dangerous to like Santana Lopez, even if you were going out with her at the time. Santana- the ever firey Latina with her intimidating sexual reputation, snarky attitude and constant insults. Deep down he believed he could be a real boyfriend to her, which he knew was probably a naive thought. He yearned to go over there, and stop her tears, and make her hold back a smile with one of his stupid impressions.

But he didn't.

Instead, he left where he had been surreptitiously watching her. He left her sitting on the floor by the lockers, where she was unaware of his concerned gaze. He left her quietly sobbing, with her face in her manicured hands. He left her alone.

He left, his textbook forgotten.

The next day, in Glee Club, it was a few minutes before the bell rang, and when he walked in the choir room, he saw Santana sitting by herself. She looked a little morose and worn down, but still had the bitchy exterior she almost always upheld. She started when she saw him, and looked a little annoyed- ironically worried, perhaps, that he'd caught her in a personal moment. Then she smirked, putting on that knowing look, indicating she wanted to make out right then and there. Instead of leaning in though, when he took his seat, he just looked at her. Sam's own green eyes searched her deep brown ones, which were filled with a comical mixture of fading lust, bewilderment and irritation.

Sam took her hand in his, and gave it a supportive squeeze.

It was only after she looked away, scoffing, (and he smiled a little when he saw her cheeks starting to burn, because he knew she wasn't supposed to feel comfort in stupid _hand_ holding), that she gave his a squeeze back.

A/N: So kinda similar to the last chapter- more Santana-comfort at the end, but this time, although it's in third person, the perspective is changed to Sam's. I'll continue with more chapters, I suppose this fic will be a series of moments and glimpses in their relationship.

**Review please, I really enjoy reading them :D**


	3. Routines

A/N: I'm sort of switching between third-person limited in Sam and Santana respectively every other chapter, so this one will be limited to Santana's thoughts and feelings.

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It wasn't very long into Sam and Santana's relationship- if one could call it that, Santana still firmly repeated to herself that she was _only_ going out with him because he was another boy she could string along- that they began to develop into a routine of sorts.

Not that Santana was ever one for routines; she was more spontaneous than that. Routines bored her. And these were just diminutive things, little things throughout the day, just the way her daily agenda had been altered slightly.

Her lunch custom at McKinley High changed, for one. Although she still sat with Artie and Brittany at their designated table (she had obviously stopped sitting with the Cheerios after she quit), Sam had begun to sit with her too. Which was perfectly normal, until one day when she was running late to the lunch period. She cursed to herself because she knew the lunch line must have gotten long. She was about to get in line when she glanced at her table and saw Sam beckoning to her. She walked over and found him sitting at their table with two trays, one clearly meant for her with the leafy green salad she always got (minus the dressing, she was _not_ about to add any extra pounds on her already perfect body), and the diet soda. Ironically though Santana liked to be spontaneous, she wasn't spontaneous with her food and always ordered the same thing.

She looked at him, bemused. "You know my exact _lunch _order?"

Sam didn't seem to register the bewilderment in her tone. "Sure," he said simply, shrugging. "Why wouldn't I notice? Besides, I thought getting your girlfriend's lunch when the line is too long was just something boyfriends do- I used to do that for Quinn."

Her heart fluttered a little (no, it couldn't have, Santana Lopez' heart doesn't _flutter_, for Christ's sake). Sure, she knew they were going out or whatever, and had been sitting by each other every day for over a week now, but she hadn't expected him to notice little details about her like that. No guy she fooled around with ever did, there was no mutual feelings involved in any of her previous experiences except for the ones of sexual pleasure- and Santana was damn good at that- so she wasn't used to guys actually noticing things about her that weren't affiliated with her body, even if it was something as insignificant as this.

She thought she could get used to that.

Sam began driving Santana home as well, a routine that started to occur frequently. And occasionally, he would stay at her house to study- and _yes,_ they actually would study most of the time (which surprised Santana, too). She would lead him up the stairs to her room, and smirk when she saw him blush as his eyes trailed to the lacy bra strewn haphazardly on her floor. They covered a few subjects together, and skimmed a few textbooks, until Santana got bored and would lean into Sam, claiming she'd thought of something better to do.

And of course, Sam would stop them when it got more heated- leaving Santana to roll her eyes and call him a pussy for not wanting to go further- "I'm giving you permission to feel up this smokin' bod- and you're _not_ even taking it"- but Sam would just insist he needed to pass this math exam he had tomorrow, so he had to get back to the books.

Sam would leave around 5pm, before her father returned from work, and Santana would watch him go with an unfamiliar longing sensation- like she wanted him to stay or something.

But Santana, being Santana, brushed the feeling aside, no matter how annoyingly often it started to occur; along with the sensation that she wanted to just be around him more- and not necessarily make out. She just wanted to simply _be _together.

So Santana wasn't one for many routines, that was true. But when the routines involved Sam, somehow, Santana didn't mind.

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A/N: This one was a bit shorter. D: And lol I guess Santana being a little happy about the lunch thing is random- but it's not really, since she's happy about the fact he noticed something about her, Santana the person, instead of Santana the female body.

So next chapter should probably be Sam-centric? It depends I guess. xD

**Review please, it inspires me to write :D**


	4. The First Date

A/N: So I'm hoping you guys will still stick with this story even though the Samtana ship is sinking in canon (as it inevitably would, I knew the Brittana was coming before Samtana even started- BUT now that Brittany kinda ish rejected her for the time being, I'm hoping Samtana has a chance of being something more than a plot device. Even if not, I am still going to have them live on in fanfiction ;_;). So basically pretend that Santana's love confession to Brittany in the show never happened xD

This chapter is the longest one yet, and I was writing it while writing chapter 5, so I wasn't even sure where I was going with this one at first, so sorry if it's a bit choppy? But I still like it.

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Sam only ever had one girlfriend, and that was Quinn. He'd gone to an all boy's school before, and honestly never had much experience with girls before, which only added to his list of insecurities (his appearance, his intelligence, etc.).

Going out with Quinn was easy, at first. They'd talk and laugh but never over anything _serious_. Quinn was nice, Sam was nice, and they were comfortable with each other. And it felt right. Normal. The blonde jock and the blonde cheerleader. A cliché. It felt safe.

When she lied to him, it felt like he hadn't even known her at all. Their whole time together, in fact, felt like a lie. Like their relationship had been so one dimensional, with no actual substance.

But still, in the good part of their relationship, it was nice, and comfortable, and felt right.

Now, dating Santana Lopez was a whole different ballpark.

First of all, he wasn't really sure whether he was actually dating her. She had just kind of made it happened, he had complied, and then _they_ just sort of happened. And it's not like they were going on dates (though they saw a lot of each other at school, went to each other's houses, and Sam wasn't sure if Rachel's party could count as a date).

He wouldn't deny he had felt attracted to Santana before- but it was hard not to be. She was different from Quinn- where Quinn was soft in her expression, Santana had hardened edges (though Sam was beginning to wonder if the many times Quinn was sweet, if it was an act). Quinn was all porcelain skin, soft blonde curls, and pink lips; Santana was all mocha skin, dark waves, and sensual curves. He had to admit he felt more attracted to her than he'd ever felt with Quinn.

Being with Santana was not that safe feeling he'd experienced with Quinn. Anything but. Exhilarating, different, thrilling. Confusing as hell. Not _safe_ though.

Of course, when he'd agreed to date Santana, it was a distraction for the aching, raw sensation of betrayal from Quinn. He just really wanted to get back at her for that. And when Santana gave her offer to feel up her "rambunctious twins that live on her ribcage", Sam realized it was just because she was bored and maybe lonely and looking for an excuse to stir up trouble. So he figured, why the hell not.

Sam knew it, Santana knew it. It was a mutual acknowledgement.

So since they were not _really_ a couple, it was no surprise to Sam that the look on Santana's face was less a look of eager anticipation than it was a look of annoyance when Sam asked her if she would like to go on a date with him.

"Look, Biebs, I thought I told you I don't _go _on dates," Santana snapped. "I don't do stupid couple stuff. We're barely a couple."

"I know, I know," Sam said hastily. "But I have a coupon for this new restaurant, and I didn't really want it to go to waste. I feel like everyone in this school only ever goes to Breadstix all the time; so no one else really wanted to go. Besides, if we're going to be a, um…_'couple'_, we're going to have make it kinda convincing, right?"

Santana scowled at him, then groaned in annoyance, and then complied. He thought that she looked a little happy about it. Maybe he was seeing things.

He picked her up at 6. The usual for a date, even though he figured Santana probably wouldn't care because he doubted she went on many dates; as she'd said, she wasn't a "date" type of girl. Nevertheless, he did the standard act of meeting her father (even though he'd been to her house several times, he never actually saw any one member of her family; he always came when her parents were at work). Sam shook her father's hand and introduced himself as her boyfriend, but it's not like he was her boyfriend. Not really.

Her father seemed nice; surprised mostly. Probably due to the fact that Santana had not likely brought Puckerman home to meet her parents, and Sam assumed he was not used to meeting boys Santana fooled around with. He doubted if her father _knew_ Santana's reputation.

Shit. How many guys had Santana actually been with? He hadn't thought of it before.

Sam shook his head to clear the thought- ignoring the unexpected twang of jealousy- and turned his attention to Santana as she joined him in the entryway. He inhaled sharply, and his heart rate quickened as his eyes scanned the curves of her body and how the tight shirt hugged her form under the swell of her breasts.

Sam immediately averted his eyes, but not before seeing Santana's lips tugging into a smirk. He knew she was used to guys liking what they saw. He resumed his attention to Santana's father, who had begun eyeing him suspiciously. Sam quickly assured him that he would have his daughter safely home by 9.

Santana rolled her eyes at his hyper-politeness with her father and nearly dragged him out the door.

"Come on, Guppy Mouth, we may as well get this over with," she said, but Sam noticed it was not harshly.

* * *

The restaurant was not full, but a good amount of people were dining. It was a corner café, with pleasant interior and low lighting. They took a window table, where the setting sun highlighted Santana in a warm, orange glow. As she took her coat off, Sam realized she had less makeup on than usual; and her ebony hair, held back with a blue headband, cascaded down her shoulders in waves.

Sam thought she looked kind of beautiful.

She glanced at him, and something changed in her face- for a second, her expression seemed softer. Their eyes locked only for a few seconds before the moment was gone as swiftly as it had come, when she said,

"Okay, Evans, you got me out here on a stupid _date_. I think it's kind of…nice you're trying to act like a real boyfriend and all, but don't expect me to want to act all 'cutesy' like those annoying couples at school, just to get a rouse out of Quinn. Though that would be kind of hilarious."

"I wasn't expecting you to," Sam laughed. "And besides, I didn't want to go on a real date with you because of her. I just kind of…wanted to."

Santana raised an eyebrow, not buying it. But it was true, he was sure he could've found someone else to use this coupon with if he had really tried. The fact was, he didn't want to go with someone else. He didn't know why this was, but recently, he had this urge to push past Santana's exterior. Sam may not have been the quickest when it came to academics (spurred by his dyslexia, which he _hated_ about himself) but he was smart enough to see that Santana Lopez seemed to hide behind a wall of insecurities, and glossed it over by using her body to get what she wanted and her mean attitude to distance herself from people.

Sam didn't want to be distanced from her.

He didn't know why. It was extremely confusing, but he felt some strange… _pull_ towards the girl. And sure, maybe he had her all wrong. Maybe she was a bitch and nothing else. But he had this unexplainable urge to know her. He _wanted_ to know her.

But he felt if he tried, he would be pushed further away.

So they made small talk, which Sam was awkward at, and then he told a few stupid jokes- but it was worth it, because he made her laugh. Sam liked seeing Santana laugh.

They talked of nothing substantial, like Sam had secretly hoped, but they still talked. And it was oddly… natural. It was not nearly as stilted as he had imagined it would be. He felt a contradictory mixture of comfort and intimidation around Santana Lopez. It was almost humorous.

And then their food came, and Sam saw she ordered as little food as he did, and he wondered if she considered calorie amount, too.

When the date ended, Sam dropped Santana off at her house and walked her to her door. She looked at him expectantly, a seductive grin playing on her features. Instead of proceeding to their usual goodbye in which they kissed in somewhat empty passion, Sam, without thinking, leaned over and kissed her cheek.

When he pulled away, Santana was just staring at him. He couldn't quite make out her expression, but it was a combination of shock and something like embarrassment. And all of a sudden, despite all of their make out sessions, this was the most intimate he ever felt with Santana. It seemed as if standing there before him, except for the time he saw her crying in the hallway, she was the most _her_ he'd ever seen her. No sensual, sultry pretenses, no snarky wit. No slashing insults, no jabs.

She was just Santana Lopez. And he was Sam Evans.

And then, just like in the restaurant, the moment was gone, and Santana looked away, her expression becoming guarded, but not angry.

He felt this undeniable surge of disappointment as his eyes found the ground. He wanted her to keep looking at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sam."

Sam looked up sharply as she disappeared swiftly into her house. He had never heard her speak his name with such softness before (he had never heard her say _anything_ with softness before), and as he made his way back to his car, he had a hard time calming the increasing rhythm of his heart.

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**A/N: I dunno why I keep ending these in a way where Sam leaves Santana confused/embarrassed, but the end for Chapter 5, I realize, will probably unintentionally go that way too. xD I hope no one minds that. HEY MAYBE I'M ACTUALLY INTENTIONALLY DOING THAT FOR A STORY CONNECTION (even though I'm not lol) Chapter 5 should be up soon.**

**Reviews are always very appreciated and welcomed :D**


	5. A Cold, Avatar, and a bit of Denial

**A/N: **Okay, so I think those cliché "sick and taking care of" fics are cute, so bear with me even though it's a little typical xD I thought this would be a cute idea for a chapter cause I want to see Santana (kind of haha) caring for Sam. And also, I'm using the idea that's often used in the few Samtana fics where it's mentioned that Sam wanted Santana to watch Avatar cause it's his favorite movie, and she's always annoyed and never wants to (used that in my oneshot Trouty Mouth now, too). I love that movie though lol, it's not like it wasn't mainstream. I guess Santana just wouldn't want to watch it. Thank you everyone so far who has reviewed, favorited, and added this story on their story alert!

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Santana swore she'd never get roped into watching Avatar, no matter how many times Sam had tried to explain to her how amazing it was. Just the idea of watching these freakishly lankly blue aliens in some fantasy world never seemed worth her time. So the fact that she ended up watching half of the movie out of her own will was genuinely shocking. But then, she was beginning to surprise herself more and more often recently.

She was sitting in her required economics class, listening to Brittany go on again about the alleged conspiracy of her cat reading her diary (Brittany was _sure _the cat was plotting something against her), when she saw Sam walk in, slower than usual. He looked tired. Shadows under his eyes were prominent, his face a shade paler, his expression less sanguine than usual. Even his mannerisms seemed off, Santana noted, as he took his seat next to her… wait, was she noticing his _mannerisms_ now?

Fuck. She was _not _getting attached. She wouldn't.

"Hey, Santana," Sam greeted after clearing his throat.

"Evans," Santana clipped.

"So, I probably shouldn't come to your house to study and um… do those _other_ things today," Sam said with a lopsided grin. Santana rolled her eyes at his attempt to try to be subtle.

"What, are you sick or something?" Santana queried, in her usual annoyed tone. That would explain his abnormal behavior.

"I- what? No, I have to take my younger cousin to some dance recital," Sam replied hastily, avoiding her eyes. "Why would you think that?"

Santana had yet to know that one of things that they actually shared in common was their individual insecurities. And they both didn't like feeling vulnerable. Santana still figured this was some ploy of Sam's to deny any sign of illness in order to stroke his stupid man ego. However, she knew he actually did have a younger cousin who took dance lessons because he had told her while trying to engage in conversation about family. She hated talking about personal stuff, so she didn't really say much (why did she even remember anything Sam had said about his family anyway?).

But _shit,_ she didn't want him to realize she'd taken up a habit of noticing things about him. She didn't like the way he was making her feel, as of late. Well, she did like it. And she didn't at the same time.

It was all so goddamn _annoying_.

Maybe he wouldn't notice, it's not like he really caught on to things very fast, but for some reason she felt a little panicked.

"Um, I wouldn't, Bieber," Santana retorted, backtracking. "I just thought the reason you walked in here like sad idiot puppy was because of that or you saw Finn and Miss Barbie getting their mack on in the hallway."

"Wait, what? You saw Quinn and Finn making out?" Sam's face fell, and this combining with his tired demeanor resulted in projecting a very gloomy state indeed.

Santana felt that irritating pang of guilt again. So she hadn't actually saw them kissing, and had been planning on telling him that she was just using that as an example, when in a flash of annoyance at Sam's reaction (_why_ the hell did he have to act so heartbroken over that stupid fake bitch?), she decided against it, and said, "Whatever, Evans, I guess you didn't see them."

And she regretted it instantly. She was Santana Lopez, who kept it real. She may have been brutal, but she was always brutally _honest_, so it pained her to lie about something which so obviously tore him up. Even when she usually wouldn't care about his feelings.

Sam turned away, with his expression pained, trying to suppress a cough; he spent the entire period silent and sullen. By the time the bell rang, Brittany had resumed her one-sided conversation with Santana.

"…and so I really think maybe my cat might be writing in her own diary or something," Brittany finished, but Santana hadn't really been listening.

"Yeah, Britts, that's cool," Santana said, but her eyes were on Sam, who was leaving the class, giving a half-hearted smile to Mike as he engaged in conversation with him on their way out.

* * *

The next day he looked even worse than before. They were in first period, another one of their shared classes besides Glee. Sam had spent the period next to her looking like he was kind of half-listening, which wasn't unusual, he often seemed to find it hard to pay attention in class. But now Sam was slumped in his seat next to Santana, head resting against the wall of where their connected table desks touched, eyes closed, his breathing slow and deep. His complexion seemed flushed; Santana wondered briefly if he had a fever. Was he actually sleeping?

Santana would wonder why he stubbornly came to school, except that she probably would too- it's not like she often got sick, and if she did, she powered through it being the fucking awesome bitch she was, and didn't let anyone see her be vulnerable.

She rested her head in her hand and sighed, staring at the white board. Why would she care if he's here or not while he was obviously not feeling well? Since when had Sam Evans made her _feel _anything?

"San…"

Santana nearly jumped out of her seat, her heart skipping a beat, and her head swiveled to stare at Sam.

"No, _two _pickles on the sandwich…" Sam was muttering, obviously dreaming. "That would be awesome…"

Santana promptly failed at concealing an involuntary snort of laughter.

* * *

Glee rehearsal was starting; Mr. Schuester was going on about some sort of plan to get everyone hyped up about this week's assignment and spouting some shit about its importance. Whatever, Santana wasn't really listening. And it appeared that next to her, Sam wasn't either. He was staring off into space again, his eyes half lidded.

She nudged him, and he straightened. Mr. Schuester noticed, and being the annoyingly over-caring teacher he is, asked Sam if he felt well. Sam assured him he was fine, even though it was obvious he wasn't. And then while rehearsing their choreography on stage for their number for a school assembly, it became even more obvious when Sam fell behind with the dancing. It was only when it was towards the end of rehearsal and he asked to sit out for a while that Mr. Schuester convinced him it was best to go home, even though they only had one more period.

So Sam left reluctantly, and Santana had this weird, random urge to follow him and make sure he was okay. But she immediately chided herself- why would she care?

Next period, their other shared class, she realized he was missing the instructions for their assignment for a group they were in, and it was due the next class. So she thought it wouldn't be weird if she brought the worksheet over to his house after school. It didn't mean anything. Just 'cause she didn't really care about school didn't mean her parents didn't, so she didn't want to get a bad grade. That was the only reason.

But when she reached his house after school, hands clutching the worksheets for their group assignment, and he opened the door looking absolutely bewildered at her appearance, she felt sort of stupid. What the fuck was she _doing_? Who cared if she got a bad grade on this assignment?

"Hello, Froggy Lips," Santana greeted. "I thought I'd bring your share of work for our group project since it's due next class, even though we both know your input wouldn't matter much; you don't really learn much in class anyways." Sam grimaced, and Santana felt a little bad at her harshness.

She invited herself in, tossing the papers onto his table, and got a good look at him. "Yeah, you really look terrible," she remarked.

"You always know how to make me feel better," Sam said mockingly, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever, Evans," Santana snapped. "You're just lucky I brought you that, since you're probably failing the class."

Sam looked away, looking distressed, most likely because it was true. Then he started to cough in what seemed a painful way, ending in hoarse and ragged breaths, and he had to steady himself with his hand against the wall. Santana felt a pang of concern. She couldn't help remembering the times when Brittany was sick, so much like a child, and Santana had helped her when her parents weren't home. But now Brittany had Artie for that.

She shifted uncomfortably. Santana wasn't good at… being _nice_. It took too much effort. With Brittany, it came naturally. With Sam, not so much. Nevertheless, she walked over to him, on sudden impulse, and placed her hand under the bangs of his forehead, her dark, cool skin contrasting with his light skin, hot with fever. Sam looked startled, and Santana drew her hand away immediately, her own face starting to feel uncomfortably warm.

"You have a fever, moron," Santana said, mentally reprimanding herself for being unable to stop insulting him. "Why did you even come to school today?"

"I… I don't like missing school," said Sam grimly. "It's hard for me to catch up."

She realized it must be hard for him in school, with his dyslexia that he had recently told her about. Her gaze trailed to the pile of papers on the table.

"Although," Sam said suddenly, "I guess it's better I left, since I probably would've seen Quinn all over Finn." Santana felt a sudden twist in her stomach, of something foreign- like guilt. "But thanks, Santana, for bringing me the assignment papers."

"I…" Santana began. She sighed, frustrated with herself, fiddling with her hands, which seemed to be an annoying habit she had picked up when she was nervous. "I didn't _actually _see them sucking each other's faces today. I just said that because… I don't even know why I said it." She walked over to his living room couch and sat down.

"Oh…wait, really?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows, and followed her. "But why would you even do that?"

"I said I don't _know_, okay?" She really didn't want him questioning her motive, especially when it was something she didn't want to admit- that she actually sort of liked him, and maybe felt a very miniscule amount of jealousy over the fact that he still seemed to be pining over Quinn. But it was only because Santana was possessive. Nothing more. "But don't get your hopes up, Guppy Mouth, I'm sure Finn and Quinn are together again, and they're just sneaking around. Berry probably figured it out- explains why she's been moping."

Sam nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "It's not like I'd be getting my _hopes_ up, exactly," he said, surprising her. Wasn't that the whole reason of him dating her in the first place? "I can't see myself getting back together with Quinn. Not now."

"Oh," she said simply, ignoring the relief that coursed through her.

Sam leaned back into the couch. Santana noticed he was shivering from fever. She reached out, tentatively, to place her hand over his. He turned to look at her, his gaze intense, and she almost looked away. Then he smiled fondly at her, and she felt this strange, warm sensation she'd been experiencing rather often as of late. The silence was deafening except for the sound of her heart beating, so loud and fast to her own ears she almost thought he would hear it.  
She pulled her hand away.

"I guess we could watch something," she said, breaking the silence, and instantly regretting it because she knew what his choice would be. What he'd been trying to convince her to see for weeks. In fact, she knew what he would want so accurately that he didn't have to respond before she got up, selected the DVD from the shelf by the TV, and putting it in his DVD player.

Sam was watching her, amazed. "Santana, did you really just put in…?" he trailed off.

"_Yes_, Evans, and this better be fucking fantastic within the first five minutes, or I'm leaving," she said, but not without humor in her voice.

And so, Santana ended up spending the next two and a half hours of her life watching some movie about weird, blue aliens fighting with humans who seemed to be after the valuable stones underneath some huge tree. She thought it was good, actually, and that the animation was beautiful. She wouldn't admit it, not wanting to see the smug look that would undoubtedly cross Sam's face the minute she gave it any praise. But she didn't leave until it was over; she didn't _want_ to leave, even though he fell asleep halfway through. Santana thought he looked kind of cute.

Maybe she thought of Sam a little more than she had expected to. Maybe she had grown just a tiny bit affectionate of him. But that was something else she wouldn't admit, not even to herself. At least not for a while.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, longest chapter yet! Not sure how good this chapter was, but I love love love reviews, and I would like to hear what you think :D Also, I'm not quite sure what to make the "topic" of next chapter, but it'll be in Sam's perspective since I switch off, so feel free to give me ideas!**


	6. Feelings Can't be Fabricated

**A/N:** I honestly wasn't sure where I was going with this chapter. Even if it's in third person, it's so much easier writing in Santana's perspective than it is Sam's. Ehh both Sam and Santana's families aren't explored at all in the show, and I heard that both of their home lives will kinda be looked into later this season (I read somewhere we'll see Sam's siblings?). But since I don't have anything to go off of, I have to make a bunch of stuff up about their families. xD

* * *

Sam had certainly been taken aback at Santana's visit the other day when he was sick- and not only that, but she had consented (_instigated_, in fact) to watch the movie he had been trying to get her to watch for weeks. Of course, he couldn't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to watch it. Sam had probably seen it in theaters five times, at least.

Still, Santana had made it clear she wasn't interested, what with the countless jabs at his nerdiness. At the time, he felt so disoriented and groggy from fever, that he didn't think it unusual for her to come over to his house by borrowing her parents' car (the reason that he drove her was he actually had his own car) and watching Avatar with him. But later, when he thought about it, he couldn't figure out her motive for coming all the way to his house just to give him their group work- other than the fact that if they were a normal boyfriend and girlfriend, it would be the usual thing to do.

But they were hardly a _normal_ boyfriend and girlfriend.

And he knew she'd actually enjoyed Avatar –he saw her face light up at some parts- she just wouldn't admit it.

He caught himself watching her a few times. Watching her reactions; the way she smiled sometimes without realizing it. Watching the way she bit her lip in anticipation at the climax of the movie- the fight between Jake and the Colonel. And he realized it was easy to watch her because recently he'd find himself watching her when she didn't know. It was another thing that surprised him, because before, his eyes would usually be on Quinn.

Sam also was confused as to why Santana had lied about seeing Quinn making out with Finn earlier that day. What was in it for her, lying like that? He assumed she was just messing with him. Santana was good at messing with people.

Somehow, he still couldn't help feel that Santana's visit had been more about just the assignment- like she actually _cared_.

He didn't know why, but he felt this inexplicable connection towards her. He couldn't deny that when she hesitantly placed her hand over his, there was this surge of unspoken _emotion _in the room, and he swore his heart was beating way faster than it should be (though perhaps that was an effect of his cold). He swore that when he'd smiled at her, he saw something shift in her expression- something similar to compassion. And sitting there, watching his favorite movie with her, (and she wasn't even insulting it every few seconds), he'd felt like it was… _right_. As it should be. That it was right he broke up with Quinn, so he could be here with Santana.

But what was he thinking? Santana was just his (as she proclaimed) "mistress", wasn't she?

Sam Evans and Santana Lopez... just shouldn't work. They don't make sense.

It was a couple days after, and he wasn't fully recovered, but he wasn't feeling sluggish enough to stay home. The minute after he walked through the school entrance, he saw Quinn in the hall- holding hands with Finn. He felt that same stab of pain (combined with his throbbing headache, it was exceptionally painful) that he always felt when he saw her- but he realized the ache had dulled some recently. It wasn't as hard for him to see her with someone else. Sam found himself just… not _caring_ as much.

But Quinn caught his gaze, and said something to Finn, who looked over at him as well, and walked away. Quinn strode over to him confidently, and Sam tensed up- he wasn't expecting this.

"Look, Sam," Quinn started. "I didn't want you to hear this from Santana, so I'm telling you now." She took a deep breath. "Finn and I are officially dating again."

Sam wasn't sure why she was telling him this. Wouldn't he figure it out? Wouldn't it be obvious? How stupid did she think he was?

"That's great, Quinn," Sam replied flatly, turning to leave. "I'm _very _happy for you."

"Wait, Sam," Quinn called out, and grabbed his arm. He looked at her, really _looked_ at her. Her expression was pained, but he could tell she didn't really regret what she had done. What she had done to him. "I'm really sorry for everything that happened. But I know Santana is like, _corrupting_ you or something. You know she's just using you, right? Santana never has feelings for any of the guys she fools around with. She's _heartless_, Sam."

Sam almost laughed at the irony. "Oh, she's heartless? Last time I checked, she _wasn't_ the girl who had cheated on her boyfriend multiple times and lied about it. And she wasn't the girl who came up and told her ex she was _dating_ the guy she cheated on him with. You know what, Quinn? Not only do I not know you now, but I feel like I never did." Then he left, leaving Quinn open mouthed and looking shocked in his wake.

He already _knew _Santana was using him. They were using each other. She had made that clear when this had started. She had broken him and Quinn up- but he knew deep down he would've broken up with her anyway. Somewhere inside, he had known she was cheating before Santana exposed it- he just hadn't wanted to believe it.

And he knew Santana probably wasn't feeling the same way towards him as he believed he was starting to towards her. All he knew was that he wanted to be around her more.

He didn't want to feel apart from her when they were together.

* * *

When he walked into Glee later that day, and he saw Quinn and Finn sitting together, he felt a surge of anger- surprisingly, not because they were together, but because of how Quinn had gone about that relationship in the first place. How she had called Santana heartless. Sure, Santana could be…_callous,_ but so could Quinn. But he didn't believe Santana was heartless. It was too strong of a word.

He realized Quinn must have never really known Santana that well. Santana must not have had many actual friends… except Brittany. Though lately, Brittany was preoccupied with Artie.

Well, she had him, at least. He wondered if this was any consolation for her at all- he thought probably not- and smiled sardonically to himself as he took his seat next to Santana. She noticed, and gave him a strange look. His eyes searched hers- and he wondered how often she was lonely.

"Hey, why don't you come over to my house today?" Sam asked her suddenly, on a whim. "'Cause, you know, I usually go to yours, and it's a change. And we need to work on the follow up assignment of our group project."

Santana looked at him for a moment, and shrugged. "Yeah, whatever, Evans."

They had extra Glee rehearsal later after school, as once again initiated by Rachel, so they didn't arrive at Sam's house until later in the afternoon, when his parents were home. She hadn't actually met them yet. They walked in on them in the kitchen, making dinner. They knew who she was because he'd told them about her before (though he obviously didn't tell them the circumstances under which they started going out in the first place).

"Oh, so _you_ must be Santana," his mom exclaimed, beaming at her. His father glanced at her and mirrored his wife's expression.

Sam saw her visibly stiffen at the warm greeting they gave her- like she didn't know how to react- and then she smiled sort of uneasily in return.

"Yeah, um…hi," she replied, starting to fidget with her hands. Sam had observed that that was a habit of hers when she was nervous. "I'm just here to work on this follow-up assignment for a group project with Sam."

"Well, why don't you stay for dinner then?" His mom asked brightly. His dad looked to her, nodding in agreement.

Santana's eyes darted to Sam, hesitant, and Sam just smiled at her encouragingly.

"Sure, I… whatev- I mean, thanks," Santana said reluctantly.

So they ate together. Sam's younger brother and sister joined them in their usual rambunctious, loud fashion, and Santana seemed uncomfortable at first; unsure of herself. But soon enough, she seemed to get into the friendly atmosphere. His parents made conversation with her, and she even laughed a few times. She seemed uninhibited. Sam relaxed, and was content that Santana appeared to be enjoying herself. That was his motive in bringing her in the first place; he still wasn't sure why, but he just wanted to see her have actual fun for once.

Besides, she was at her prettiest when she was happy; when her guard was dropped.

Later, in his room, they were poring over books for their research on their next assignment. He glanced over at her. Santana was scanning intently for information, her black hair pulled back into a loose, wavy ponytail.

"I never would've figured you would do so well in school," Sam said; he'd noticed Santana did exceptionally well in all of her classes, and she was the one who did most of the work for their group project.

Santana looked at him quickly, glaring.

"I mean, not 'cause you're not _smart_," he continued hastily, "I just wouldn't think you'd care."

"I don't care, really," Santana said. "My parents do. But whatever, I like getting good grades." She paused, before adding, "They don't like that I'm in Glee though."

"Why?" Sam asked, curious.

Santana paused. "They think it's stupid and distracts me," she replied. "But they were fine when I was a Cheerio because I could've gotten a scholarship at the end of next year. Not like I would ever quit Glee. I admitted before, it's the best part of my day." She said the last part defensively, and shrugged.

"I'm glad you're in Glee club," said Sam suddenly, and she turned to look on him, raising an eyebrow. It was true, he was glad she was in Glee club. Glad that he had met her. But he had no idea what he was even saying.

Santana scoffed. "Yeah," she retorted, smirking, "I mean, who wouldn't want to look at this hot piece of action, right? I _knew_ you wanted to get up all on this even when you were dating Barbie."

"No, I just…" Sam hesitated. "I can tell you really love to sing."

And then they were just looking at each other, and there was palpable tension in the room. Not exactly _bad_ tension- but it was there, and Sam could feel it. His heart started pounding. He reached over to brush a stray piece of hair, loose from her ponytail, away from her face. Santana flinched a bit, but didn't move her eyes away from his; he didn't move his hand, but instead gently cupped the side of her face with it.

Then he kissed her. But not in a passionate way; it was not like the others. The others were fervent and lustful and they were _good_ but ultimately meaningless- and Santana almost always started them. She always took the initiative.

Sam realized he hadn't actually started a kiss between them before.

This time, it was soft, with warmth, and he felt her respond almost immediately with equal tenderness. It was only a few seconds- yet it felt like minutes. When he pulled away, he saw her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were still fluttering open. When she opened them fully, she searched his face- most likely for signs of what that _was_. Sam wasn't even sure what had just happened.

All he knew was that he had an undeniable compulsion to kiss her again, in the same way.

"I…" Santana's voice came out strangled. She broke the gaze, and quickly started gathering her belongings. "I have to go."

"Oh, uh… right, yeah, it's getting late," Sam said, disappointment coursing through him. "Guess your parents would get mad."

"Oh, _please_, Guppy lips," Santana retorted hotly. "I've gotten home _way_ later than this; I think I've learned how to sneak around my parents. Not like I'd have that problem with you, 'cause you're so fucking responsible." He could tell she was trying for viciousness, but was kind of failing, because it was hard for her to look too sarcastic and mean like she usually was when she was blushing and sort of stumbling over her words and avoiding his eyes.

He smiled at her, amused.

"_What_?" she snapped.

"Nothing, nothing," Sam said, raising his hands in defense, fighting laughter.

She eyed him angrily, obviously not finding the situation funny. He drove her home, and when they arrived at her house and he walked her to the door, she lingered a bit.

"It was…nice, I guess," Santana said finally, seeming to find the porch column very interesting to look at. "Meeting your family. I kind of had fun."

Sam felt his heart jump a little at her words. "Good," he breathed, grinning widely. He could tell she was having trouble not smiling back. She gave him a small wave before turning inside.

He couldn't figure out why exactly he was compelled to find a way to make Santana happy. He just knew that when she smiled- the genuine, _rare_ smile- he has this strange, fulfilling feeling. It was hard to believe that the idea of him and Santana could become something real. Sam was having trouble coming to terms with it- he didn't even know what he was _feeling _half the time.

Their relationship started as random and a pretense. A physical distraction. Nothing more.

But as time went on, it got harder for Sam to believe that it was all based on fabrication.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you sooo much if you're still reading this! This chapter was hard for me, and I don't think I can really write Quinn xD I'm sorry if it was kind of...not that good haha. But I like this chapter anyway, and I hope you guys liked it. Next chapter, Santana's perspective, is usually more fun.

**Reviews**** are my absolute favorite, and it only takes a minute to review :D So please tell me what you think!**


	7. It's Not Like It'd Work, Anyway, Right?

**A/N: **So I managed to get in the weekly update, I was worried I was taking too long with this because I hadn't really been writing this week (or last week, technically), so I wanted to get this up today; I hope it doesn't feel rushed. Next update might come faster and in the middle of the week for once. :D

* * *

Santana was _not _in a good situation.

No guy had ever kissed Santana like that. All of her experiences in kissing (and sex, too) had been heated and occasionally sloppy. The guy would get horny and they usually weren't even all that pleasant. She'd made out with Sam quite a bit since they got together, too, though often it was she who instigated it.

But _that_… that had felt too nice. It had been soft and full of feeling, leaving her breathless and hungry for more. It had made her heart flutter. Which was exactly the problem. If there was anything Santana Lopez was not supposed to feel, it was _soft, nice, heart fluttering feelings._

Or so she believed, anyway. Santana had spent the entirety of her high school career making sure that she was the hardhearted, cold, head bitch (whether in Glee or not, she still wanted to establish herself at the top of the food chain)- and she knew most everyone saw her that way. Except for Brittany, no one really knew her. Even the Glee club didn't really understand her; they didn't make an effort to.

Except now, it appeared Sam was starting to make an effort. And it kind of freaked her out.

She knew she acted like that because she needed to distance herself from people. Santana didn't want to admit it, but she realized the reason she'd had sex with Puck and any other guy and had created a slutty reputation for herself was because she felt insecure. And feeling insecure was the fucking worst feeling. She would go out of her way to make other people respect her- make them _fear _her- but she knew they didn't really respect her. Why would they?

Why would they respect her when she didn't respect herself?

So she pretended she didn't care, even when she did. She didn't get close to people because she was afraid of getting hurt.

If anyone pulled any psychoanalysis shit and tried to get her to talk about herself, they'd probably say it was because she thought no one could love her unless she used her body.

They'd probably say it was because of her parents fucked up relationship that she felt this way. Her family was not exactly the closest. There was always a level of tension in her home.

She knew that was one of the reasons she had felt uncomfortable around Sam's family. They had been so _warm _and… welcoming. She wasn't really used to that. It had been different, but not in a bad way. She had felt somewhat envious.

Santana didn't want to risk developing greater feelings for Sam; she was already in too deep. She believed the likelihood of him ever actually liking her was so nonexistent that she couldn't bear to keep on with the façade. Something had to be done.

* * *

After the incident, Santana decided to try to avoid Sam. This turned out to be rather difficult, considering they had been spending so much time together and had a majority of the same classes. Nevertheless, she started to abstain from catching his eyes, afraid of the way her heart would start pounding. She started to keep distance from him as to not risk touching, afraid of the way her face would flush. She began to give only clipped, short responses whenever he talked to her, afraid of actually enjoying herself around him.

Santana was afraid of_ liking_ him and now it was too late; she already liked him. So she could admit it to herself. It wasn't as if she was going to admit to anyone else. If only he wasn't so goddamn _adorable_ and _nice _to her all the time, this wouldn't be so fucking difficult. She tried to ignore how her heart clenched in remorse every time she distanced herself from him again.

It was after school when he came up to her at her locker that she decided to end it. He was suggesting the next movie for them to watch together and how she probably would hate it but he was going to make her watch it anyway (normally she'd sneer at the idea of Sam Evans _making _her do anything- but the irony was that it was becoming much harder for her to resist giving in). The fact that he was looking at her with softness in his eyes and a gentle smile that she could hardly believe was directed at her made her feel slightly nauseous at what she was about to do.

But it had to be done. After all, she believed Sam didn't harbor any feelings for her. He couldn't. She did not doubt that the majority of what Sam most likely felt for her was pity. No guy had really _liked _her before, after all. She was always someone's escape from boredom.

So, she tried for flippancy. Just to make it quick and a little less hard.

"Sam," she started, failing to sound nonchalant because there was a slight quiver to her voice. God damn it. She cleared her throat, and put on her bitch mask. "Okay, I know you've enjoyed the visitation rights, and it's been fun and all I guess, but this you and me thing- it gots to end. So be grateful. I freed you or whatever."

Santana had been purposely staring at her locker, but when she finally looked at him, she was surprised to see incomprehension evident in his expression. "Wait… but _why_?" Sam asked dubiously. "Santana, I-"

"Save it, Sam," Santana said, her tone more severe than she had intended. "I know you were probably just waiting for me to end this whole stupid thing, you never really wanted to do it in the first place. Now you're happy, right? You didn't care about me, I didn't care about you- everyone's... everyone's _happy_." Except her voice broke at the end because honestly she was trying not to cry and she was glowering at him; she sounded anything but happy.

She was expecting Sam to look a little more relieved. Instead, he only looked hurt and confused. Santana disregarded it, just as she disregarded the swarm of emotions threatening to overtake her. He opened his mouth to speak and she pushed past him, going to find Brittany to ask for a ride home.

* * *

Santana knew the rest of the Glee club noticed when she didn't sit next to Sam the next day, and she pretended not to hear Tina whispering to Mike, "Well, _that _didn't last long." She glanced at Sam, and when she realized he'd been looking at her and saw him appearing so bewildered (and it seemed like he was upset, but Santana didn't know why he would even care about their pseudo-relationship ending), she looked away quickly, feeling sort of sick and not wanting to do anything but go home and not give a shit about anything ever again.

She managed to evade Sam in the hallway, and got a ride home from Brittany again. When they reached her house, and Brittany turned off the ignition, they sat in silence for a bit.

Then Brittany spoke up. "Santana, you looked really sad today," she said, as always stating the obvious. "Did I do something wrong?"

Santana sighed, her heart swelling in fondness for her sweet, blonde best friend. She really did miss her. She wished she got to see her as often as she used to. "No, Brittany," she replied gently. "It's nothing, really." Santana felt Brittany's watching her, searching, trying to understand.

"Is it Sam?" Brittany asked abruptly. "You like him, don't you?"

Santana turned her head at that, looking at her hard. Brittany may not have been the smartest, but she knew Santana the best out of anyone: they had years of friendship for that; Brittany was keener to pick up on things than she let on.

"Why would you say that?" Santana asked hesitantly, already knowing the answer.

"I see the way you look at him," Brittany said simply. "And the way he looks at you. I think he likes you, too."

"No, Britt, I know he doesn't," Santana said, her chest starting to feel that exasperating pang of sadness again. "That's why I had to end it." She realized Brittany had noticed she had avoided the actual question. But it didn't have to be answered. Santana knew that Brittany had already figured it out- and probably a while ago, too.

Brittany was good at figuring Santana out.

"Well, okay," Brittany said carefully. "But when you're sad, I get sad too. And then it makes me want to go home and watch Disney movies. It makes me less sad, 'cause I remember when we used to watch them together and eat popcorn. Do you want to do that so you won't feel sad anymore?"

Santana managed to laugh a little, feeling nostalgic. Whenever one of the two of them felt down when they were younger, they used to go to the other's house to watch _Aladdin_ or _Lady and the Tramp_.

"Yeah," she said softly, glad for an opportunity for some much-needed and missed quality time with her best friend. "I'd like that."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, obviously I'm not leaving Samtana broken up, I love them too much. You'll just have to wait 'til next chapter to see when Sam actually gets a chance to talk to her. Also, is it weird that Brittany can drive Santana around? xD I don't know why I made it in this story that Santana doesn't have her own car to drive, so she always gets rides from people, but I did and I just made the backup person other than Sam to be Brittany. But is Brittany, um… smart enough to drive? I feel like she'd be dangerous behind the wheel.

Oh well, roll with it haha. We needed some sort of Brittana-friendship moment anyways. I hope you guys liked this chapter.

**Reviews ****make me quite happy and I appreciate every single one. :D Seriously, I love getting review alert emails. It only takes a minute, so tell me what you think of this chapter! Also, if you have any suggestions, feel free to say them.**


	8. Honesty is the Best Policy

**A/N:** I love all my reviewers and readers! Thank you so much for reading this story, it does mean a lot that people are still reading it. I wanted to get this chapter up tonight.

* * *

Perhaps it wasn't astonishing that a girl like Santana Lopez had gotten bored with him. Sam had sort of expected her to. But he had been starting to hope that she wouldn't. He hadn't been anticipating it so suddenly, either. Santana had been avoiding him ever since he had kissed her at his house. That kiss had felt different- but _good_ different. And Sam had thought maybe it scared Santana a little. But he hadn't thought that Santana would break up with him so soon. After they were just starting to seem like they _fit_… at least, to him.

And he never realized that he was holding out hope for Santana to feel that way too until now.

It hurt. A lot. Surprisingly, it might have hurt even more than it had with Quinn. Sam had to question why that was. His relationship with Quinn was certainly more prolonged and they had done far more things as a couple. After all they were a real couple. Their time together was full of things you might expect a normal high school romance should include. The security of it had been just what Sam had been looking for: he was the new guy at school, and he had landed the hot, blonde head cheerleader as his girlfriend. His _first_ girlfriend.

Yet as he thought, he came to the conclusion he was never in love with Quinn. He was in love with the idea of being with Quinn. Sam supposed he might've known this deep down all along, that something that had always seemed fake with her, but had never come to terms with it until now.

It was true that he had really been done with Quinn when they broke it off. Well, obviously he wasn't over her right away. Starting something with Santana Lopez had been a good distraction. That was the whole _point_ of going out with Santana in the first place.

But over the course of the last month, he had been surprised at how his feelings for Quinn were dissolving, and how time spent with Santana began to be more enjoyable. Now that she had broken up with him, it was only more painfully clear that he really did have feelings for her. He didn't know the scale of them; they were new and different: but he was sure they were there.

The difference with the only two breakups he ever experienced was that this time, he didn't want to be done with the girl involved.

* * *

The next day, Sam sat next to Mike in their economics class; their seats had strangely happened to switch that class, so he didn't sit next to her anymore. He felt a strong contradictory mixture of relief and dismay. Relief because he wouldn't have to endure her not acknowledging him, dismay because he wouldn't have more chances to talk to her _because_ she wasn't acknowledging him. If any other guy was in his situation, they'd probably shrug it off and get on with their life because the relationship wasn't genuine anyway.

But it had started to feel genuine, and Sam couldn't ignore that.

Throughout the period, his eyes wandered over to her. At least she didn't look happy (though she had seemed convinced that the two of them would be happier without each other). Her brows were furrowed, her head in her hand, and she was drumming her pencil on the desk. As if she felt his gaze, she suddenly swiveled her head in his direction and caught his eyes. She looked instantly more distressed and she looked away swiftly.

It was always Santana who looked away first.

As they began a work time towards the end of the period, Sam gave an audible sigh, and started when Mike spoke.

"So what happened with you and her?"

"I, uh- me and who?" Sam responded almost automatically, knowing quite well who Mike was speaking of.

"Santana, obviously," Mike said. "I know she's Queen Bitch and all, and honestly we- as in the Glee Club- were kind of expecting this to happen sooner or later-" -Sam grimaced- "-but it was sort of random. I guess you're glad to be rid of her though, right? The girl's got quite the reputation of being in fast and easy 'relationships', if you can even call them that. I don't even think she's capable of being actually happy with anyone." Mike laughed a little at that, and Sam glared at him.

"She _is_," Sam snapped without thinking, and Mike looked at him, surprised. Sam immediately backpedaled. "I mean… she is capable of being happy; she just puts up, like… _walls_, you know? You can't just judge someone so quickly. But for some reason, she just decided to end us. She said something like it was what I was waiting for all along, and she never even gave me a chance to explain myself."

Mike processed this, clearly caught off guard by the outburst. "Hey, man, do you…" He paused.

"Do I what?" Sam asked.

"Do you _like_ Santana? Like, really have feelings for her?"

It was Sam's turn to be taken aback. He did know he had feelings for her, at least he _thought_ he did… but when someone asked him to put it into words it wasn't all that easy.

"I… I think so, actually," Sam tried to explain, tentatively. "I wasn't planning on it or anything… I mean, we were just using each other."

"Oh, well, yeah you were," Mike stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which to the rest of Glee, Sam supposed it was, since he had started his non-relationship with Santana the very day he broke up with Quinn. But still.

Sam shot him a look. "Whatever. I'm just trying to say that I don't know how it happened, but I don't think I wanted it to be fake and all about the physical anymore. I realized that there's more to Santana. She has these other _sides_ to her that she doesn't let anyone see. You wouldn't know it from the way she acts at school, but when she smiles, like really smiles, it's amazing. She'd never say it, but I know she's lonely a lot. I can tell. I just… I feel like I have to be there for her."

Sam glanced over at Mike, who was staring at him with an apparent look of awe.

"What?" Sam inquired, defensive.

"Nothing," Mike replied hastily. "It's just, I can tell you like her. I mean, you _like_ Santana Lopez. I'm kind of amazed."

"Well, it's too late now," Sam said bitterly. "I guess in the end, I was just another one of her escapes from boredom."

"Look, man," Mike hesitated and seemed to be analyzing the situation before he spoke again. "I would say that is insanely dangerous territory to find yourself in and get the hell out of it before she stomps all over you (not to mention she already kinda did), but I really think you that if you do like her, you should talk to her. Sometimes feelings come out of nowhere and surprise you, and you have to let her know that. Anyway, it's not like she looks exactly thrilled about this whole situation, either." Mike nodded towards where Santana was sitting, and Sam followed his gaze. Once again it seemed that Santana was not in particularly high of spirits. She was in conversation with Brittany, but her eyes seemed distant, like her mind was elsewhere; her smile was small and forced.

As the bell rang, and Sam watched Santana exit the class quickly with Brittany by her side, he decided however hard it was going to be for Sam to corner the stubborn Latina into having a conversation, he was going to have to try anyway.

* * *

The McKinley High halls were getting more vacant as teens scattered off to the school busses or their own cars. Sam felt his palms getting clammy out of anxiety as he waited by Santana's locker. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but he had to be honest with her. He had to tell her that maybe it's true she got uninterested with their relationship and she'd be happier now- but it that doesn't mean it was the case for him. As Santana rounded the corner as he knew she inevitably would to retrieve her things from her locker, she didn't see him at first. She stopped, shutting her eyes tightly like she had a headache, running a hand through her hair. Just as she was starting to lean against the wall, he spoke up.

"Santana."

Santana jumped, looking up sharply, her face instantly hardening. "What do _you_ want, fish lips?" she snarled. Crossing her arms, she grudgingly started to walk towards him to get to her locker. "Stalking me now? I know this body is a guy's fucking wet dream and all, but I told you we're done." She opened her locker swiftly and began to put books into her backpack.

"No, I-" Sam sighed. Why was this so hard to put into words? And why was Santana so intent on believing she knew what he felt?

"Whatever, I don't care why you're here, I have better things to think about," Santana said, closing her locker and giving him a smirk that came out more like a pained grimace.

She turned to leave, and in desperation, Sam grabbed for her arm and she froze, her back to him.

"Jesus, Santana," Sam said exasperated. "Would you just _listen_ to me for a sec? Okay, I don't know how the hell this all happened, but I have no idea why you just ended it yesterday. I was kind of hoping you weren't going to be done with me that soon. You acted like it was what I wanted or something, like I asked for that- like you thought I didn't care at all! Just because you don't care, doesn't mean I don't!"

"Well, you _don't care_, right?" Santana cut him off and turned to face him, and Sam's eyes widened in surprise at her expression. She looked as upset as when he'd seen her crying in the hall by herself, and his chest constricted at the memory. Her voice was starting to quaver and her glare was even more menacing. "Every fucking guy sees me as a sex object 'cause I _am_ one. When I started this whole mess, I thought it would be a good way to mess with Quinn after she pretty much destroyed whatever ounce of friendship we had by being a bigger bitch than _I_ was- and you were just some dim, overly nice guy that I got to make out with in the process. You were pissed and horny, I was pissed and bored- win-win situation right? Well, _fuck_ me for getting attached- I couldn't believe I was actually starting to feel something- I couldn't believe that I liked you- when I knew you never would. I figured, why not end it now since it would anyway? I'm so-" her voice broke and she glowered at her locker, blinking hard, trying not to look Sam in the eye. "I'm so _stupid_."

Sam was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; his head was swimming in astonishment and confusion. "You…" he began slowly, trying to find the right words. "You broke up with me because… you _like_ me?" _That_ was the reason for the break up? Because she was actually feeling something, and was so immersed in the idea that Sam wasn't? He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Both of them had thought that the other didn't like them, when it was exactly the opposite. Sam may have spent a lot of time in English class zoning out, but even he knew this was definitely an example of irony.

Santana's face flushed red in a probable mixture of embarrassment and anger, and she glared harder, if that was possible. Sam chided himself when he realized she probably mistook his incredulity as a confirmation of her beliefs. "Just forget it, Guppy Mouth," she hissed, trying to struggle out of Sam's grasp.

"_Wait_, Santana," Sam said frantically. He couldn't let her leave without knowing how he felt. He couldn't let her keep on presuming that no guy could ever like her. "You assumed that I didn't care about you at all- that if you told me that, I'd have to say that I didn't have any feelings for you. You just assumed that it was better this way. You broke up with me without asking me how I _felt_ about you. Santana, I _do_ like you. Hell, I definitely wasn't expecting to- it's true at first I was just trying to distract myself. But, Jesus… I thought you'd broken up with me because you were _bored_ with me. I honestly can't believe that you feel anything for me."

Throughout that tirade, Santana's face had morphed from humiliated fury to disbelieving shock. Her mouth opened, as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

Sam knew that Santana had some inner self esteem issues that he thought she would never address out loud- until now. She was so used to establishing herself as someone who only ever dealed with sexual attraction rather than emotion, she wouldn't believe that a guy could look at her with anything but hunger for her body.

"Santana, _I like you_," he said again, in hopes that message was starting to get across, but Santana was mute, looking like she was still trying to process it. So he said it again, louder, "I like Santana Lopez!" just as a student walked out of a nearby classroom into the hall and stared at them. He grinned lopsidedly at whoever it was, and Santana shot the random person her signature scathing look that sent him scampering.

She looked back at Sam, biting her lip the way she always did when she was trying not to laugh. "God, you are so fucking dorky," she let out at last, her voice wavering still, like she was about to cry.

"Why were you so convinced that if you were honest with me about this, I'd say I just liked you for your body?" Sam asked carefully.

He shifted his feet, waiting in concern for her reply. "Because no guy has liked me for anything else," Santana replied in a small voice, shrugging, staring anywhere but at Sam.

Sam felt immediate swelling in his chest, and he brought his hand to her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek, causing her to finally meet his eyes. "Hey, well, I do," Sam said, giving her a dazed but earnest smile, "and you're going to have to deal with it."

Santana smiled a real (though shaky) smile that time- a smile so sweet and genuine that he wished he could see it from her more often- and she quickly wiped away a tear that was threatening to fall. The entire enormity of what had just happened still hadn't quite set in yet- (Santana Lopez had actual feelings for someone and it was _him_?)- and he felt disoriented and happy and numb but in a good way all at the same time. Coming to terms with his feelings had been difficult and confusing, and it appeared that it'd been way more so for Santana, but somehow they had done it and it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

When he took her hand, she didn't pull away, but instead squeezed lightly in response. He thought back of all the times before he really knew Santana (or at least _partially_ knew her- he still had a lot of knowing to get done, after all), and how he had thought she was simply a mean spirited girl trying to climb her way up the social hierarchy of high school and not really giving a shit about anyone. He had never known there were layers there. And he had certainly not anticipated that he would actually feel something for her.

He knew they were not a typical couple. Quite the opposite of what he and Quinn had been and quite divergent to what Santana had ever been involved in.

Sam still wasn't sure why he felt he could be himself around her so easily, nor why he liked seeing underneath Santana's veneer. He just knew that here, right now, holding her hand like this, was where he wanted to be. And when her cheeks colored slightly and her eyes brightened as his smile grew, he couldn't help believing this was where she wanted to be, too.

* * *

**A/N:** Ha, the fluffy make-up. Of course I wasn't going to leave them apart for long- they needed to be honest with their feelings for one another.

I like writing Mike/Sam friendship. xD So obviously, in this story, the Brittana events of "Sexy" never transpired, nor Santana's song Trouty Mouth in "Original Song". In fact, in the timeline, I don't think the Glee club has gone to regionals yet.

And I am definitely not planning on finishing the story here- I love writing these two, and it'll be interesting to see how it would pan out if they were an _actual_ couple and not a pseudo one. Bahh I usually like the chapter I post, but then I think it's terrible, and then usually I think it's okay again. So... I hope you liked it. I might go back and edit it a little later, but I wanted to get it up.

**I'd love to hear your feedback and what you might want to see in future chapters, so please ****review****! :D**


	9. Not Quite So Simple

**A/N: **You guys are the best for reading this :D So, I keep ending up using Quinn as kind of a plot device; I don't hate Quinn (well, I don't hate Quinn in some fanfiction at least; I don't really like her on the show right now xD) but ehh I keep having her popping up because she was pivotal in Samtana happening, sooo...

Whatevs, the tables have turned because now Samtana is not the plot device like it is in the show. Also, I would have more reactions from other Glee members, but you have to remember that this is Santana's perspective third person (just like it's Sam's every other chapter), so I can't actually talk about what anyone else is feeling or thinking about.

* * *

If anyone had told Santana Lopez a few months ago that she would be in an actual relationship (like, _dating_-dating and not fuck-dating), then she would have laughed in their face and told them they were full of shit.

So it was certainly to be believed that she was the most shocked by this sudden turn of events. She would never have pictured herself with someone like _Sam Evans_, of all people. When he first came to McKinley High early in the school year, he had just seemed like some dumb, blonde jock. Granted, he was good looking, even with his oversized mouth and all, but it's not like it seemed as if there was any substance to him. Also, Santana had totally pegged him as a virgin. She'd said it herself: he had no game.

She was the last one to have that thought that their getting together to mess with Quinn and Finn would ever turn into something real. That she would ever _allow _herself to feel something real. And then the fact that he could actually feel something for her in reciprocation- the very notion was incomprehensible; yet somehow, all of this had come to be. It had Santana reeling. Somehow it managed to make her feel thrilled, giddy, terrified, and slightly nauseated all at the same time.

She had honestly been expecting him to be grateful that she broke them up- that he could go back to pining after Quinn or some other girl of that caliber (at the very least, some type that wasn't Santana) and she could go back to when the only emotions that resulted from being around him were annoyance and anger (and perhaps a subtle hint of attraction had always existed, so whatever, that too).

Back when everything was nice and _simple_.

God, she had felt like such an idiot when she found him waiting at her locker- (and she didn't know what the fuck he was doing there, why would he have been making everything _worse?_) and this uncontrollable babble had started to spill out of her mouth and before she knew it, she unintentionally told him that she liked him. It had felt like a nightmare, and all she had wanted to do was leave so she could just stop _feeling._

Until he stopped her. Until he told her that he felt the same way, that they had both been grappling with strange, newfound feelings- both believing that the other harbored none at all. Until he told her that she was the one he wanted.

Santana couldn't remember the last time someone wanted _her_. Just Santana Lopez, the person. Everyone always chose someone else. Her parents never really gave a fuck. Brittany, after spending so many years glued to the hip with her, started to develop a real relationship with Artie. She had spent the past few months feeling so isolated from everyone- and even though that's what she acted like she wanted, it wasn't what she wanted. Not really.

When he said that, her mind went blank from shock and she didn't really know what had happened. It took a moment to process. (Though, honestly, Santana felt sort of pathetic upon realizing her actual self esteem was that low to be that shocked at the revelation that someone wanted to be with her). But it _was_ shocking because she pushed people away all the time. She had pushed Sam away. It's just that normally the people she pushed away wouldn't come back. Normally, she wouldn't give a fuck.

But Sam came back. And, despite how hard she tried to keep ignoring it, she _definitely_ gave a fuck.

Now, they were together.

_Together-_together.

So he'd driven her home from school after everything had happened, and, when he had walked her to her door just like he always did (always causing an eye-roll from Santana- he was so charmingly and irritatingly chivalrous), he'd sort of smiled at her nervously but honestly; she had returned one, feeling equal (yet hidden) anxiety. They'd stood there, looking at each other awkwardly- and he leaned in a little; but _she_ kissed_ him_ this time. A sweet, tentative, melting kiss that had made her head feel light and her heart palpitate involuntarily.

She felt as if she could get used to this method of kissing someone.

* * *

Santana was a bit apprehensive about attending school the next day with the knowledge that she was seriously, for the first time in her life, _dating_-dating someone. But it's not like anyone would really notice a difference from the last time they were together; it was all in her head where it was scary. She supposed a discrepancy would definitely be noted, though, if she started acting like how Barbie or Midget did in relationships publicly- what with their hand-holding and stupid little hello and goodbye kisses. But fuck that- Santana was way too much of a badass to be in a touchy-feely couple-y relationship (though, okay, maybe she secretly kind of coveted it).

Therefore, a problem persisted. Santana had no idea how to act in a "relationship". It'd all been so easy before. She took on the role of the hot, bitchy cheerleader (and ex-cheerleader) that got guys to do what she wanted, and she slept with or fooled around with them. And then there was the whole friends-with-benefits situation with Puck, which obviously hadn't counted as a relationship or anything; there weren't any strings attached.

So when Sam picked her up and drove to school, and he grabbed his bag and was ready to leave, she lingered in her seat. She was thinking of how different everything was going to be now, how insane this all was. She sat there, staring into space. His voice broke through the silence.

"Um… Santana?"

"What?"

She glanced at him and he was staring at her with a half-smirk, looking irritatingly amused. "I'm _coming_, god," she snapped defensively, climbing of the car. There was a moment when she hesitated again before they began to walk to the entrance, looking at his hand. He followed her gaze and smiled. When his hand took hers, she felt a jolt of delight and discomfiture, and because of the latter, she pulled away, immediately regretting it.

"Look," she said haughtily, "just 'cause we're like… a real couple or whatever now, doesn't mean I want to be all clingy."

Sam's gaze penetrated like he could see right through her (it freaked her out how much he was developing the ability to undermine her façades) and his eyes were full of disappointment and understanding and when he let her hand go she instantly missed the warm touch of his skin and the security of his fingers intertwined with hers.

"I know," he said.

Santana reprimanded herself because even though everything had changed, it was going to seem as if nothing had because she couldn't stop being stubborn.

* * *

In Glee, when she saw him again, waiting for her, and realized it had been a week or so since they'd sat together, she felt a moment of hesitation- like she should stop this now. Like this was all wrong.

But then his face lit up, and his smile was so wide that she felt her heart clench in something akin to contentment and she couldn't help smiling back. She made her way over to him and sat down, not giving a fuck what any of the Glee members would think (and she could tell they were thinking about it from the confused sideways glances). They got through their rehearsal without comment from anyone- but it felt like it should be obvious the way the mood had altered. When they were in their non-relationship, Santana had often been near Sam, but she had been so guarded about everything that they hadn't really seemed comfortable with one another. When they "broke up", she had obviously tried to keep literally as much distance from him as she could.

Now, though, everything was different. Santana was still attempting to make the shift seem not quite so dramatic, but it was difficult because even the smallest differences in their interactions felt like they would appear obvious. And since the Glee members knew how they normally acted together before, seeing them like this now would come off as a random change.

So she felt self conscious about it. And she didn't show it, or, at least she _thought_ she didn't, but upon getting to know Sam, he was much keener to pick up on what she was feeling than she would prefer. He was getting way too good at reading her. Still, the reassuring looks he kept sending her made her heart pound to know that he cared enough to notice in the first place.

It was still hard to get her head around the fact that he _cared_.

However, although Glee went by without incident, the rest of the school day did not. It was after the period and she was getting things from her locker when Quinn came up to her.

"Looks like someone's got her claws back in."

Santana's head whipped up. "What do _you_ want, Fabray?" she snarled, not bothering to hide the distaste from her voice- because when did she ever bother to hide it? Quinn stood there, her carefully practiced holier-than-thou expression slipping a little.

"I know you're going to say this is none of my business-" Quinn started, but was quickly interrupted.

"Yeah, you're right, it isn't," Santana said, hoping that would shut her up.

"-but I can't stand by to let you _use_ Sam like this all over again."

"Oh, so like you weren't _using_ him?" Santana snapped, anger starting to boil in her veins. "Using him for popularity just like you're probably using Finnocence? No shit, we were both using each other, Sherlock. The one fucking reason I broke up with him is because I kind of was starting to care about him. You just can't see how we can be together _without_ using each other. You just don't understand how he can possibly care about me back, right? How he can care about me over you?"

"No, I'm with Finn now," protested Quinn, flushing. "I just don't want to see him getting hurt again."

"Well, you did a pretty good job with that the first time," Santana retorted, and she turned to leave and didn't look back.

Sometimes Santana wished she hadn't had a falling out with Quinn. They were both bitches in their own different ways, but Santana was just honest about it, and most people didn't even see Quinn as a bitch. At least, not anymore. But with everything that had come to be, and with what had just happened, the fact that Quinn couldn't seem to believe any guy could like her for _her_: it all left Santana with a sick, sad feeling. Like all of her years of supposed friendship with Quinn had been a lie, too.

And she knew it shouldn't matter. It's just, she didn't have many of those. Friends, that is. And maybe sometimes she didn't deserve friends. Or she didn't believe she deserved them. She knew she wasn't a nice person. Usually she didn't even particularly_ want_ to be nice. But it didn't make it any less lonely.

Why was it so easy for people to give up on her?

When the next period ended, and she saw Sam in the hallway, ready to leave, the forlorn feeling that was churning in her stomach miraculously dissolved (how the hell did he _do_ that?) and she felt like she didn't deserve this, either. But this time she took his hand into her own, and he gave her a look of surprise.

"Thanks, Sam," Santana said quietly. _'For not giving up on me; for caring',_ she thought. But she left that unsaid. He looked confused, but just nodded, giving her that endearing half smile. Maybe he kind of understood and kind of didn't, but he didn't really need to.

As they walked down the hallway together like a real couple, it felt strange yet so wonderfully, unexpectedly _right_.

So perhaps, if months ago someone had told Santana she'd be involved in a relationship with a guy (a cute, dorky, comic book and Avatar-loving nice guy with whose personality she clashed with) in which more than sex was included, yes, she would have scoffed, disbelieving. But that didn't mean that she never wanted something like that for herself. Maybe finding that in Sam was the least expected, but that doesn't mean that in all her experience of meaningless fucking and make out sessions there was never a small facet of hope somewhere deep down inside of her that wished for more.

And now, finally, she had that something more.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope I'm not repeating myself too often in this story D: I swear, I freak out after I post every chapter because I really do think people will think it's awful. I'm just glad people seem to like it. (So I may come back and edit? I dunno). I'm going to have more dialouge in upcoming chapters, probably, but this was Santana's reaction to Sam returning her feelings.

**Reviews seriously make my day. I get so happy :D If you have any comments or suggestions or whatever, just go ahead and review!**


	10. Movie Night

**A/N:**Thank you to everyone still reading and everyone who's been reviewing! I love you guys.

So, I won't be here next weekend to update unfortunately; I'm going on a Choir trip to L.A. from Wednesday night to Sunday night. Unless I can get Chapter 11 up by Tuesday night, I'm afraid no updates will come until probably the middle of the week after next weekend, or possibly the weekend after the next. I'll try though, it's just I have more of an idea for Chapter 12 than I do Chapter 11 right now.

To the people who want some Puck, I may put that in a little later, but I doubt he would be jealous, per se, maybe a little disbelieving. Or apathetic, haha. More Brittana-friendship shall come soon. Also, if anyone besides seekingelephants thought that it was odd for Santana last chapter to not want to indulge in PDA, it is true that she would not be uncomfortable with making out in public and such. However, it's the little gestures affection part of PDA that was new to her.

And anon reviewer "day"- if you want any help with that, feel free to message me! And thank you to all my other anon reviews, since I can't reply to your reviews.

Okay, enjoy the chapter! :D

* * *

During their time together being a non-couple (and now, a real couple), Sam and Santana had taken to watching movies together. It was probably watching Avatar that had started it (since he was absolutely _sure_ Santana had secretly liked it). So now all Sam wanted to do was get her into all the other movies and shows he thought were undeniably awesome (i.e.: Star Wars, Monty Python, Star Trek).

Okay, so maybe this was really just a ploy to spend more time with her. Not that he really needed an excuse- they were going out, after all. But this was new to him. Obviously he'd gone out with Quinn, but everything had been routine and expected and normal. Dating Santana Lopez was definitely foreign territory, and he was honestly a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. Ecstatic, but apprehensive nonetheless.

And of course, Santana wasn't experienced in the relationship department either (unless you count the guys she slept with and toyed with as relationships: but Sam still preferred to try to forget about that).

When she arrived at his house that Saturday evening, standing there wearing a low cut striped sweater and jeans and her hair loose and slightly curled at the ends, he couldn't help the small intake of breath and the skip of his heart. They were the same reflexes that still seemed to persist every time he saw her. While it was true he was finding himself more and more comfortable around her (and he assumed vice versa), he couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit on edge. As if she would realize her fatal mistake in pursuing an actual relationship with him and call the entire thing off.

But each time his mind started to go off on a rather neurotic tangent, Santana would smile genuinely at him or take his hand in hers suddenly at school and he'd be reminded that Santana _did_ like him. While it was still, in fact, quite shocking, it always reassured him.

And she cocked her head at him just then, eyebrows raised, standing in his doorway, and he realized that he'd just been gawking at her without actually inviting her in. Laughing nervously, he hastily stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. Santana rolled her eyes affectionately at him while making her way inside.

"So I was thinking of what you and I should watch tonight-" Sam began.

"Sam," Santana cut him off, putting her bag on the table when they made their way into the living room. "Your movie choices basically always suck."

"Okay, woah. First off- my movie choices do not suck," Sam retorted defiantly. "I am a master at picking movies. And second, you totally like them."

"I do not, they're all lame," Santana snorted. "Who wants to watch movies that have like, huge nerd fanbases who sit around and probably have discussion panels at the fucking Comic-con?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "You know about the Comic-con?"

"I-no-_never mind_ that," Santana spat indignantly. "The point is: _I _should get to pick what we watch." And with that, she sat on the sofa with finality.

"Fine," Sam relented. "What movie?"

Santana sighed, crossing her arms. "Well, normally I would suggest something actually fun to watch like _Bring it On_ or _Buffy_, but it's not like I brought anything, so I suppose we have to make do with whatever you have. I still get to pick specifically out of your horrendous selections, though." Somehow she managed to keep her tone both sharp and playful. Sam laid out some DVDs on the table, and Santana scanned them. He sat down on the sofa beside her, watching.

"Oh," she said, picking up one of them. It was _Transformers_. "Besides the fact that the whole 'autobot' thing is unbelievably dumb, Megan Fox is hot."

"Actually, that fact is the only reason I own it," Sam said appreciatively, but hastily added after she hit him on the arm, "-but you're hotter."

"Hell yeah I am," Santana laughed.

They ended up watching random movies On Demand, both of them grabbing for the remote out of the other's hands. Sam kept opting for _The Karate Kid_, claiming it was classic, while Santana kept on wanting to pick over-dramatic _Lifetime_ TV movies.

"They're so stupid that they're funny," she defended, and Sam reluctantly had to agree.

After a while, they started to settle into the couch: Sam sitting up with his arm around her, and Santana with her legs curled up and resting against him. It had happened somewhat involuntarily, and it felt surprisingly natural. Like their bodies just fit together well. He glanced at her; her eyes were lit up and bright, and as she watched the screen, unaware of his gaze, she seemed lost in her own world. Her lips, painted glossy pink, were curved into a small smile and her face was relaxed. It was an expression that one did not often find gracing the countenance of Santana Lopez, but it was Sam's favorite. He noticed she did not have as much makeup on as she usually did, and Sam preferred that. Her beauty was, for lack of a better word, stunning. He wasn't sure if she realized it. Of course he knew she thought herself attractive (and god, that was definitely an accurate description), but Sam wondered if she ever looked into the mirror and _knew_ how beautiful she was. He doubted she did.

"Hey," Santana said suddenly, her voice sounding lazy.

"Yeah?" Sam murmured, his fingers absentmindedly running through her ebony hair.

"Tell me something random about yourself."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, anything," Santana prompted. "Like, why did you transfer to McKinley?"

"I guess it was because I wanted a more normal high school experience," Sam said after a moment of thinking. "I didn't really feel like I fit in at my non co-ed school anymore. My parents were hesitant at first, but then they didn't mind."

"Your family seems…nice," Santana stated abruptly.

"I guess so," Sam laughed fondly. "Yeah, my parents have always been supportive. And my little siblings can be annoying as hell, but I love them anyway. I don't know. Anything I have to say about myself is probably boring. And you pretty much know my interests. Tell me something about yourself, San. Besides the fact that you're an ex-cheerleader and can tear down anyone you want with ferocious words." He added the last part jokingly, for there were many different sides of Santana Lopez; he just counted himself lucky he saw her unguarded.

"Well, what else is there to me?" Santana asked rhetorically, sounding somewhat bitter. "I'm a bitch, plain and simple. And if there's anything to say about my family, it's that we're not nearly as chummy. Not that I really _want_ to be friendly with my parents."

"Hey, no," Sam said firmly. He shifted a bit so he could look at her fully. "You know that there is way more to you than that. _I_ know that, and I don't even know you half as well as I want to."

"Why…" her voice trailed off, and for the first time during the conversation, she turned her head and her deep brown eyes met his. "Why do you like me?" Her tone was quiet and vulnerable, and Sam fought the urge to put his arms completely around her and not let go- because it seemed like it was so hard for her to _get_ it. And how was he even supposed to explain this? When it was, truthfully, hard for him to wholly understand too?

"Honestly, I often find myself doubting whether _you_ really do like _me_," Sam started, trying to choose his words carefully. "Because this is so new to me. Us- we're different. We're not your typical couple. Whatever. But Santana, you have to know that my feelings for you are real. You have to know that I like you because I see a Santana that most people don't see. I see a Santana that laughs and smiles genuinely, and makes _me _laugh. Someone who loves watching bad old 90's TV shows yet won't appreciate the true classics that I try to get her into." She laughed a little at that. "I see a Santana who is fun to be around, who puts up with my jokes and impressions and I can't believe that is actually sticking around with me. A Santana who is confident, a Santana who is insecure. But most of all, I see a Santana who is _beautiful_." And all of that was in earnest. It was remarkable, really, how good Santana could make him feel. How when they were together, they worked together.

Santana sat up, edging off Sam's shoulder, her hair covering her face, and Sam moved forward with her. He furrowed his brow, concerned, and opened his mouth to speak, worried he had said something wrong somewhere. Then she spoke first.

"I don't think anyone's called me that before," she said. "'Beautiful', I mean. That's so stupidly cheesy." But when she finally turned her face to him, she was smiling: a smile that almost seemed sad, yet grateful. Her eyes reflected wonder and contentment at the same time.

"I'm only saying it because it's true," Sam said seriously, reaching out to push her hair back, and her eyelids fluttered when his hand touched her face. "Besides," he added, grinning, "you knew I was the sappy type."

They simultaneously leaned in towards each other then, as if propelled by the same rhythm, and he kissed her, lips parting. A kiss full of appreciation- and desire, too, that became more apparent when the kissing became faster and the tempo increased. His heart beat rapidly and it was becoming harder to think; and as they began to inch down into the sofa, it was even harder to grab hold of his rational mind when he was practically straddling her. As if propelled by a force by which he could not control, he found his hands wandering up and down the sides of her body. Santana's hands were tangled in his hair. His kisses moved to her neck. A moan escaped her lips, one full of lust, and it brought him to his senses (even though it had only turned him on more). He sat up, breathless and dazed, and she propped herself up with her elbows, looking rather disheveled.

"Well, that was…" Sam couldn't find the words.

"Better macking than with Quinn?" Santana supplied, smirking, but her cheeks were flushed. Though he and Santana had obviously made out quite a few times, they had never been so syncopated with each other; never had they been so lost in the other's cadence.

"I…yeah," Sam agreed finally, running a hand through his hair. "But if we ever decide to go farther- if we want to- well, you know-"

Santana rolled her eyes.

"-I just want it to mean something, I guess."

"Actually, as much as it's weird that I, of all people, am saying this, I do too," Santana said sincerely.

He beamed at her, and she mirrored it. They resumed their prior positions with Santana resting comfortably against his shoulder. As Sam turned to the TV, he realized that they had forgotten completely about movie choices, whatever they picked at this point, he couldn't care less.

* * *

**A/N: **'Cause they don't actually care what they watch, as long as they can get their cuddle on. Haha, I hope you liked this one, and I hope the dialogue didn't seem unnatural- but I wanted more interaction like that between the two of them.

The only background I know from the show, unless I forgot something, was that Sam went to an all-boys school. I know the show hasn't elaborated on his family yet, but does anyone know why he started to go to McKinley? Let's just pretend, for the sake of the fic, that it was for the reason I made him say. xD Oh and on a side note, for some reason, thinking of movies/shows they respectively would like was hard- at least, for Santana's to clash with his. But I totally watch stupid Lifetime movies with my friends, and sometimes they're actually scary.

**Reviews _a_**_**lways **_**make my day. :D Please let me know what you think! **


	11. Happiness, Unhappiness, and Nostalgia

**A/N: **As for where we are in the canon storyline right now, "Sexy" (minus all the Brittana events obviously) already happened, I just never put Holly Holiday in because it wasn't necessary (although now that I think about it, I could've done something with that episode to suit Samtana). I'll put in canon events from the Glee storyline to make them fit in with my Samtana storyline. So, we're at Original Song right now. I'll keep putting in canon events as it suits me. Also, I hope you guys don't mind the AU Santana family storyline I'm putting in.

BTW, how angry was everyone that Samtana did not get a break-up/friendship scene? I legitimately felt upset about it last week xD I still do. I kind of hated the Glee writers for that. But at least we have fanfiction…

Oh, and what the heck, I always thought these line breaks didn't work, I just never knew how to put them in! Yay!

* * *

Santana woke up the next morning, a Sunday, to the sound of pattering rain on her skylight window. Pulling her arms over her head, she groaned as she stretched. She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up feeling so... _happy_. Giddy, even. It was not the normal set of emotions she normally harbored upon waking up. Normally, she felt annoyed. Or just apathetic.

As she arose, feeling her bare feet touching the white carpet of her bedroom floor, it was so odd that she felt that nice that it took her a second to even remember why. Then it hit her. She recalled last night: watching movies but not really watching them.

And_ Sam. _Everything he had said.

Running a hand through her hair, Santana laughed a little to herself; all of this was so absurd. Experiencing these bubbly feelings. She didn't quite know what to make of them half the time, but she certainly didn't want them to go away. Lying back down on the soft blue comforter of her bed, she almost didn't even want to leave her room, as to not destroy the bubble of happiness. She couldn't act this openly giddy at school, it just wasn't _her_, and it was hard being very open with Sam yet, so it was nice to revel in it a bit at home in the privacy of her own bedroom. But as she reluctantly got up and out of bed, and started downstairs, the spell was broken by the sound of her parents' bickering from the kitchen.

"I just think that we should be paying more attention to our daughter," Santana heard her mother hissing, and she froze on the stairs. "I mean, look at this semester progress report! Her grades are dropping_._"

"Mi Querida," her father said exasperatedly in his native tongue, "We can't be _forcing _her to study all the time. So she's not going to get a Cheerleading scholarship for athletics now- so what? It's not absolutely necessary to shoot for academic grants. My choice of medical field does pay quite well, you know."

"Well," her mother retorted stiffly. "If I had _my _way, she never would have quit Cheerleading to begin with. She was good at it. It's because of all this Glee mess that she got distracted from it- and now it's distracting her from her grades, too."

Santana didn't want to hear anymore, so she stepped into the kitchen after making her way fully downstairs. They jumped as she came in, turning to her as if caught.

"Hey, San," her father said with obvious mock-cheerfulness, sitting at the table, newspaper in hand. Her mother stood at the counter, stirring something that looked like eggs in a pan (probably an attempt to get her to sit down at the table with them), with a cross expression, smile stiff. As always, the atmosphere in her home was unpleasant, and Santana felt herself starting to tense up. All happy feelings from before disappeared in an instant. Irritated, she rolled her eyes at them, mumbled good morning, and, ignoring the eggs, quickly grabbed a bagel from the bowl on the counter before hurrying back into the hall and up the stairs. They would inevitably confront her later about all this, but she just didn't feel like dealing with it right now.

After she showered and dressed, her anger grew. Why were her parents so fucking _disappointed_ in her all the time? Why was her mother so set on her being a straight-A student and a top cheerleader? But even as she thought it, Santana knew. Of course she knew. It was because her mother wanted her to be a carbon copy of herself, and not only that, but to achieve more than she had. Her mother was let down with how her life had turned out, so she was always trying to force her former aspirations on her.

Santana hated it.

Of course she'd wanted to join the Cheerios, right before high school. All she had wanted was popularity. For people to notice her. She craved attention, she _needed_ it. And she got it. Mainly by being mean, of course. Cheerios were instantly revered, but she made people fear hear all by herself. She found acting that way got her respect, and she liked that. Being at the top of the school's social hierarchy suited her. It didn't hurt that she was athletic, either. But after a while, she found herself with fake reverence and few friends. Despite the fact that the majority of the Glee club still didn't seem to be very fond of her, after spending so much time in it (since it was one of the few places she had pure, unadulterated fun), she had began to grow attached, and she realized she needed it. It had felt like she'd found her niche.

It was the thing that she had long ago started to look forward to everyday. Now that and Sam were really the only subjects of any amount of daily eager anticipation.

Scowling in frustration, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts, considering calling him. She decided against it almost instantaneously- she had just hung out with him the previous night, and she was _not _about to be one of those annoying girlfriends. So she decided instead to call Brittany. As it rang, she vaguely wondered when the last time she had given her best friend a call was. Feeling a twang of bitterness, she recalled that Brittany hadn't exactly called her in a while either. The days of their inseparable friendship seemed far away, and she began to get nervous that Brittany wouldn't even pick up.

"Hello?"

The blonde's sweet voice rang through the receiver, and Santana felt herself let out a breath of relief that she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Hey, Britt," she said. "How are you?"

"San!" Brittany exclaimed happily. "You hadn't called me in a while. I was beginning to think you were mad at me. Or the phone was mad at me. Sometimes I think it's mad at me when it hasn't rung for a long time."

Santana laughed at the illogical reasoning. "I know I haven't. Just felt like talking to someone, I guess."

There was a pause on the other end. "Is it your parents?" Brittany asked, leaving Santana, once again, marveling at her friend's uncanny ability to pick up on her emotions.

"Yeah," she said. "They're just arguing over my grades and my future and shit like that. Or, well, my mom is arguing and my dad is listening. You know how they are."

"Hmm…" Brittany murmured thoughtfully. "I know! Let's go to the park and feed the ducks!"

"But it's raining outside, Brittany."

"Yeah, and that way I can wear my yellow rain boots, which are awesome."

Santana mulled over her options for a second, but when it came down to it, she really just wanted to get out of the house, and she needed time with Brittany anyway, so she agreed.

* * *

The pavement on the sidewalk was slick with water, reflecting the dark green lushness of the trees. Spring flowers bloomed, getting their fill of nature's drink. The number of people in the park was sparse because of the rain, and the grey clouds overhead were not ominous but refreshing. Santana liked the look of springtime during a light shower; everything had a sheen to it, and it wasn't as if the rain pouring down, it was falling lightly. She glanced over at Brittany, clad in yellow rain jacket with matching boots, and couldn't help but smile as the tall girl gazed intently at the sidewalk- probably avoiding cracks. They were both clutching a large umbrella, letting the drizzle fall onto it and drip off the sides.

When they reached the large pond in the middle of Lima Park, Santana saw Brittany's face light up when she saw the ducks swimming in the water and waddling on the shore. They spent the morning throwing bread crumbs into the pond, both of them cheering on different ducks to get to the bread piece first. One female duck was rushing for a piece of bread floating in the water, being tailed closely by a different female duck.

"Yeah, you go, girl! Fight for it!" Santana called out, causing the both of them to giggle. She found herself forgetting the events of the earlier morning, and she enjoyed Brittany's company. It had certainly been missed. Soon her thoughts drifted pleasantly back to the night prior, and she let herself daydream a bit about a certain blonde that wasn't right besider her… until she felt a nudge in her side. She looked over, and Brittany was grinning knowingly at her.

"You were _smiling_," Brittany said.

Santana felt herself heat up a little. "Yeah, 'cause feeding the ducks is fun," she retorted indignantly.

Brittany raised her eyebrows, knowing better. "How are things with Sam?" she asked, and Santana pretended to find the mallard searching for more bread in the water very interesting.

"They're whatever," she shrugged nonchalantly, trying to look uninterested.

"Well, I think it's nice he likes you back," Brittany said. "'Cause I know it's making you happy. It's nice when you're happy. It's not nice when your parents are arguing about you and stuff, but it is nice that it made you come feed the ducks with me. Ducks are nice."

Santana linked her pinky with Brittany's then, feeling content with the familiarity of the gesture.

"Yeah, being with Sam is... _nice_," Santana said honestly. "And this is nice."

They stayed like that for a little while longer. They stood and watched the ducks, hearing nothing but the sound of the rain and the quacking and the occasional nosie of distant traffic. Standing there made it easier to forget her mother's constant disapproval and her father's constant indifference, to forget her parents' lack of compassion and understanding in their own marriage. With Brittany by her side, it made it easier to remember the old days, when they were young and best friends in elementary school and everything was simplistic. Back when, in her eyes at least, her family was perfect and her parents were perfect and she was the perfect little daughter. Now her family was anything but perfect. Not like they ever were, but now, obviously, Santana was no longer a little girl and she could see the many imperfections in their family life all too clearly. She remembered how scared she used to be when she thought they were going to get a divorce, just because of how tired her mother seemed with her life all the time, and her father never did anything to help it. Now she thought it might be better if they divorced, just so they could be happier. The familiar raw, pounding sensation of gloom began to crawl back and she shook her head slightly to clear it, trying not to let all of the memories of her parents' fighting (often _her_ being the subject) get the best of her mood.

Santana ended up going to Brittany's house for the majority of the day. She knew that her best friend realized this was to avoid her parents because this had been a frequent occurrence over the years. Anytime her parents would start creating an atmosphere in their house so rigid one could cut the tension with a knife- well, she would just go to Brittany's. At first, Brittany's parents didn't seem to understand the Latina with her cutting remarks and harsh attitude, and thought she was a bad influence. But around the middle school years as Santana began to relax in Brittany's warm family environment, they got to know her a lot more and recognized how much of a bond she and Brittany had.

They baked cookies in the kitchen- it was Brittany's idea, but Santana made sure to supervise every single action Brittany made, much less they turn out like the baked goods the blonde girl had once made for her a few years prior. Those cookies had been a thing to see… and certainly a thing to taste.

The rain did not cease during the whole of the day, and it was satisfyingly nostalgic, being surrounded by the smells wafting from the kitchen and feeling the same wood floor she had run across when they were just little kids under her feet.

It was only when she got home before dinner did the distress start up again. Taking a deep breath, Santana turned the knob of the front door and walked inside.

"_Young lady_."

Santana winced at the sound of her mother's stern tone. She was standing by the stairway, arms crossed.

"What?" Santana snapped, aggravated by this greeting. It's not like she had gone to some party and gotten drunk and hooked up with some random guy in the middle of the fucking day- she had just been hanging out with Brittany and feeding ducks, for God's sake. Although, she supposed her mother would not think highly of wherever Santana went now, after finding out about a few of the parties she had gone to in the beginning of junior year. The wrath of her parents would certainly be much more profound lest they find out about all of the other times she had gone out, all the other times she had had sex. She had practically a whole other life that she'd managed to keep quite hidden from her parents. It had started with the beginning of high school, mainly, because establishing oneself as a Cheerio was the best way to get invited to upperclassmen's parties.

Incidentally, her mother also had never really approved of her friendship with Brittany, claiming her to be less than a genius (and Santana, even though she knew it was true, would fume, because she also knew that Brittany was smart in ways that her mother would never understand).

"We have yet to talk about this," her mother said, holding out the grade report.

"Mom, my grades aren't even bad. There's a C in there, whatever. I don't understand why this is such a big deal."

"Your _future_ isn't a big deal? The fact that you're distracted all the time by show choir _isn't a big deal_?"

"I am not distracted all the time!" Santana protested hotly. "We have regionals coming up, but…"

"Santana, I don't _care_ about regionals for the Glee club," her mother sighed. "This isn't what you want to do with your life!"

"You never even listen about what I want do with my life!" Santana exclaimed, her voice rising.

"Don't be ridiculous, all of this singing was always a waste of time," her mother stated. "You don't think you'd actually get anywhere with that, do you? You must get you grades up, and that's final. Why can't you see I'm doing this for your own good, honey?"

Santana felt her irritation building, the words forming in her mind, words that so desperately needed to escape her lips so she could finally tell her mother that she just pushed her too hard. But it would be in vain, anyway, so she let it pass. She let it pass, just as she always did, and pushed by her mother to go upstairs to retire to her room, only coming down when dinner was announced.

* * *

There was talk of nothing but regionals at Glee club the next day. As always, Rachel was vehemently pushing to do original songs, and surprisingly, with the help of the Blonde Barbie, the idea passed. She sighed, and shifted in her seat. Despite the happiness she had felt over the weekend, her mother's disapproval had weighed her spirits down, and she definitely didn't feel like writing a song about it.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked beside her.

"Nothing," she said, waving it off. She fiddled with the dictionary in her hands and glanced at him. "So, do you want to write a song?"

"Not really," Sam confessed. "You know I'm not exactly great with words."

"I would totally write a song about your giant mouth," Santana laughed, but after seeing his semi-wounded expression, she hurriedly added, "and about how much I _love_ it."

"Yeah you do," he said playfully while leaning toward her, grinning into a quick kiss. She smirked back, forgetting where they were for a second, and marveled at the comfortable warmth coursing through her body.

The Glee club ended up banding together to write a song about their feelings about being treated poorly throughout the years by the rest of the student body and just in general, entitling it "Loser Like Me". While helping with the writing process, Santana couldn't help but think about her parents and how they also had the ability to make her feel bad about herself.

A couple weeks passed and Regionals seemed to come rather quickly. Before she knew it, they were getting off the bus, ready to change into their outfits and head to their designated "Green room".

Their performance time grew nearer and nearer. Santana felt nervous, (as she always did before going out on to stage), but masked it with cool indifference. Nevertheless, Sam, becoming remarkably close to Brittany in the way that he could pick up on her emotions, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She just raised an eyebrow as if to say _whatever, I'm fine_, but secretly took comfort in his proximity to her.

Their performance was incredible, and as she threw her confetti slushie towards the audience and heard the roar of the crowd, she was left her with an exhilarating, adrenaline-pumping rush. She loved singing. She loved dancing. Of course she didn't know if it was something she wanted to do with her life, she doubted it was. But she hated that her parents had to be so against it.

After it was announced they would be heading to nationals, she felt so caught up in the moment that she jumped into Sam's arms. Santana felt him stiffen involuntarily, surprised, before relaxing into the embrace and putting his arms around her. But she woke up from the thrilling haze of their win and immediately pushed him away, embarrassed at the obvious display of affection.

In the lobby, there was a mob of people as everyone met with their families. Shouts of congratulations rang throughout the air. She expected to see both parents waiting for her, as they usually came to all the competitions (albeit a bit reluctantly, they were just not into watching show choirs). Her heart sank when she saw her father standing there by himself, giving her a small smile.

"Hey, Papá," she said, furrowing her brow. "Where's mom?"

Her father hesitated. "She couldn't make it this time," he said simply, leaving it at that. Santana swallowed and nodded. When Sam came up to her and gave her a questioning look, she just gave him a smile that reassured him everything was fine.

So she tried not to think about it. Instead, she let her mind dwell on their now gained road to Nationals. She let her mind dwell on the rekindling of her friendship with Brittany.

And most of all, she let her mind dwell on what was making her the most happy as of late- being with Sam.

* * *

**A/N: Long update for a semi-long hiatus! So I wanted to finish this today 'cause I would've have had time to finish it later this week until the weekend- I always feel like I need to edit my update later though. I know this was mostly Brittana friendship and a made up family storyline, but always rest assured I will satisfy your Samtana needs :D**

**Reviews make my world go round.**


	12. Caring Tendencies

**A/N: I have a favor to ask of you readers. It would mean a lot ****to me if you could ****leave a review ****after finishing this chapter. Last chapter got a bit of a low key response compared to the others, probably partially because it was on a weekday, but I really honestly want to know if more people are still reading, not just because reviews are so nice to receive, but because it lets me know there are still other people reading the updates- and definitely a lot of work and thought goes into this story. (Probably too much thought xD). I over-analyze things and think some people must be bored with this. I really hope my updates aren't ever boring. ): **

**I'm guessing a lot of people read without reviewing. ****I appreciate all of you, of course- but if you review, I can appreciate you personally. :D**  
**/end neurotic rant**  
Also, does it annoy you if I update too often? I also sort of, in an OCD way, update every week on a weekend because I feel like I _have_ to, but you know what, I don't, and now I'm just babbling.

This chapter is a bit of a parallel to Chapter 5. And if you missed last chapter, it's best to read it, as to get caught up with Santana's family storyline.

* * *

Sam had noticed something a bit strange in the way Santana had been acting after their win at Regionals. At first, he'd thought she'd look happy; the kind of happy she barely ever showed amongst other people. But he'd definitely caught the way her face had fallen when they reached her parents- except, no, that was wrong; they had just reached her _parent. _He thought that perhaps the fact that only her father had come was the reason for her change in mood. But she hadn't said anything about it, so he wouldn't either. Santana still tried to avoid being too personal, it was just in her personality, so Sam avoiding asking her too many things about herself. Truthfully, he felt like he could keep away from being personal with his own family issues at the moment, as well. His parents were in somewhat of a dire situation in terms of finances. Although things weren't looking too good, he tried not to dwell on it and to wait to see how things would turn out.

To be expected, the Glee Club was in high spirits, exhilarated from their triumph. However, they still needed to raise the money in order to proceed onto Nationals. They had to actually _get_ there, after all. A few suggestions were made in class, such as Mr. Schuester's idea of selling saltwater taffy, but it was not until later in the week were they were able to come to a consensus on the best idea: a fundraiser benefit featuring neglected artists. Somehow Sam got chosen to be the emcee, but he didn't mind.

That particular week had been full of rain, and the sound of it against the window of Sam's economics classroom distracted him. Their lesson had finished, but the period had not, so many students were just milling about and talking, waiting for the bell to ring. He rested his head in his hand, staring at the blur of colors against the windowpane. The sound of Santana coughing beside him caused his attention to be averted. In that class, they had switched seats again, but this time they could choose where they wanted to sit. So instead of sitting by Mike, as much as he enjoyed his company in such a boring class, Sam was back by Santana. He looked over at her, and instantly became concerned. Her head was resting in her hand as well, but in a much more slumped fashion; her face noticeably took on an unusually sallow shade though her nose was somewhat pink. Her hair was messily tied back, and her clothes were simpler as though she could not have been bothered to care about her outfit that day. This was all giving him a strange sense of déjà vu. It was only when she brought her hand up to her temple, eyes squeezed shut in pain, that he realized they were in the same situation as before, all those weeks ago, with their respective roles reversed.

Their roles to each other had certainly been different, before, as well.

"Santana…" he began carefully, already anticipating her less than accommodating reaction, "You don't look that great."

"Wow, _thanks_."

"You know what I mean."

She gave him the evil eye for a few seconds before she caved. "I _know_, okay? I feel like fucking hell. And it's all your fault."

"My fault?" Sam laughed incredulously. "How does that even make sense? I was sick, like, over three weeks ago, and you go to a germ-infested school everyday filled with tons of gross teenagers."

"Whatever…" Santana mumbled sleepily. "Still blaming you." She bent over the desk slowly to put her head on her arms.

"Hey," Sam said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You should go home."

"No," she whined, eyebrows pushing together to make a defiant scowl, "I don't wanna."

Sam had to stop himself from laughing again. She sounded like a little kid. "Why not?" he asked.

Santana shrugged. "I don't want to be at home longer than I have to," she remarked vaguely with her typical forced detachment, chin still resting on her folded arms, eyes staring into space. Sam yearned to know more, but she didn't elaborate. "Besides, I don't feel bad enough to leave."

"There's the fundraiser thing, tonight, though, and you shouldn't even go to that…" Sam persisted.

Santana groaned, weakly trying to hoist her head up from her resting position on the table with her elbows. "Look, Guppy Mouth, you can _stop_ with all this over-concerned shit. I can take care of myself, got it?"

He felt a stab of annoyance at her unrelenting obstinacy, and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the bell rang. She started collecting her things, gripping the back of the chair to help her up. As they turned and filed to leave along with the rest of the students, Sam noticed Santana rubbing her bare arms absentmindedly. He stopped her when they were out of the classroom.

"Here," he said, unzipping and taking off his dark gray sweatshirt. "Take this, at least."

Sam could almost feel the catty response building in her, as he knew they always did out of habit. She simply took it and retorted sarcastically, "Thanks, _Dad_." But as she shrugged the oversized hoodie on, he saw her lips were turned up in a small, grateful smile.

* * *

The audience at the fundraiser benefit was small; it consisted mainly of a group of who later turned out to be hecklers, and then Kurt and Blaine. Even though that by the end, with Mercedes' riveting performance as the closer, some of the heckling had turned into cheering, the turnout was still undeniably pathetic, considering the whole point of it was to be a _fund_raiser.

It was a little later in the night, and most of the Glee club had left by then, when Sam found Santana sitting on one of the chairs in the green room, staring at her phone, her eyes blinking slowly. He took a moment to appreciate the insanely tight red dress she was wearing (well, he _was_ still a guy, and he hadn't really gotten a chance to look at her too much that night until then). Her dark hair was sleek and shiny from being straightened, making it longer than usual. However, he snapped out of his admiration when he remembered that she was sick, and she was, for some reason, still at school. Besides that, why wasn't she wearing warmer clothing?

"What are you still doing here?" Sam called, and Santana's head snapped up, cell phone still clutched in her hands. "You should've called your parents already."

"Well, I was going to, but I don't know, I just didn't. God, I wish I had my own fucking car." Santana added the last bit wistfully. "I was kind of waiting for you, to ask if you could drive me, but then I sort of ended up sitting here 'cause I got tired…"

Sam decided she wasn't making complete sense probably because, taking note of the increased red color in her face, she had started to develop a fever.

"I realized I get rides from you way too often," she continued, sniffing a bit, her voice sounding congested and a bit raspy. "So I _was_ going to call my parents. But then, I remembered my dad went out of town today, so it would be my mom picking me up, and this is a Glee thing…"

"Why does it matter if it's a Glee thing?" Sam asked curiously.

Santana fell silent, looking as if she felt she'd said too much in the midst of her fever-induced delirium. When her eyes met his, her expression fell into an almost comical, rapid change from wavering apprehension to confusion, before she finally settled on a look of disdain.

"Look, can you just get me out of here?" she snapped, obviously avoiding the question.

Sam, not fazed in the slightest by her irritated state (heightened, no doubt, by the fact she had a cold), took her hand and led her out, feeling the escalating heat of her skin. He noted that at least she had brought a jacket, because she'd grabbed it from the counter before they left and pulled it on.

* * *

The drive to Santana's house from school was always short, since she lived so close to the school. While they drove, Santana sighed, her forehead resting against the window of Sam's old car.

"I called Karofsky out for his shit today," she said suddenly.

Sam glanced over at her, surprised. "Wait, you did? What happened?"

"He was being the same asshole he always is, and he was getting ready to rag on Kurt again," Santana recalled, her voice sounding slow and tired. "It pissed me off, so I told him I'd crack his fucking nuts. His choice of right or left. And that I had razor blades in my hair." She smirked. "He got the message that he can't mess with me. I sent the pussy running."

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes back to the road, marveling with respect at his girlfriend's ever-present head bitch in charge attitude, even when she wasn't feeling well, and the fact that she had done a nice thing and stood up against him for Kurt. He couldn't help the rush of anger that immediately surged toward Karofsky, however, not only because of his terrible treatment of Kurt and people in general, but the idea that he might have hurt Santana, had she provoked him enough. And she was not exactly in her best health. The very thought of him ever so much as _touching_ her made him furious. He knew, through words, Santana could certainly hold her own. But physically? Against some prejudiced, huge football player that could very well be crazy, for all Sam knew? Of course not. But he held his tongue, and decided against saying anything about it. It's not like she had been alone; Blaine and Kurt had been there. And Karofsky, as bad as he might be, probably wouldn't have attacked a girl. He supposed he really was being too protective.

They reached her house, and when he pulled up, Santana only shifted a little, looking completely drowsy.

"I could've walked home," she muttered indignantly, her eyes closed. "My jacket has a hood..."

"Um, no," Sam said. "That's insane. I wouldn't have let you do that in the state you're in, even though you live five minutes from school. And it's raining." As if the weather had to accentuate this fact, the rain pounded harder on the car, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Sam ignored Santana's semi-incoherent mumbled response of, "you can't make me do anything". As always, he opened her car door for her, but this time he had to help her out; she was that tired, and at first she pushed him away, annoyed, but accepted his offer to lean against him because she was sort of stumbling. He walked her to the porch, hurrying along as to not let her get too wet. And as she turned to go inside, pulling out her key, he gently turned her face to his and kissed her lightly on the lips-_ lightly_ only because that despite the desire to deepen the kiss, it was probably best not to go into more open kissing when either one of them was sick. Santana bit her lip, a half-grin plastered on her face.

"You're annoyingly nice," she huffed.

"And you're annoyingly stubborn," he replied, smirking. "This is news?"

She shrugged as if in agreement, and her hardened countenance and practiced smirk melted into her rare look of genuine affection and gratitude. It always made Sam's heart jump a little. After Santana disappeared into her house, he pulled the hood of his own jacket back up and headed back to his car, still feeling worried, wishing she took better care of herself. His overprotective nature mostly likely stemmed from the fact that he was an older brother to two siblings, to whom he always had to look after (in fact, all the more so recently- his parents were spending less time at home and more time at work; Sam was even starting to think his father might lose his job).

Sam wanted Santana to talk to him about things she was dealing with concerning her family, if she ever even wanted to at all, but only when she was ready. He wasn't really ready either. Their relationship was a gradual one. It was still developing, still in the hesitant, early stages. They didn't need to know everything about each other. Opening up to another person took time; if the other person was worth it, the time was worth it. And Sam knew that Santana was worth all the amount of time she needed.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like presents. If you do end up reviewing, how about you tell me what you'd like to see in the future? And do you prefer longer chapters, or shorter? Mine are never really too long, but I like making them longer. I have ideas for the next few chapters, except for chapter 13, strangely.**

**I lubb everyone who reads my story! :D**


	13. Nightmares and Anxiety

**A/N: I don't know why, but ff didn't let me reply to any of your lovely reviews last chapter D: To address some here: I'm definitely going to try to make longer chapters, I like writing longer ones, but sometimes it can be hard to do that and make the "deadline" I set for myself (yeah I know I really shouldn't have a deadline). There will definitely be more judging of their relationship, or I want there to be. And yes, I'm putting in Prom, but not until around Chapter 16. First we have to get though Born this Way, and Rumours- which I am totally excited about writing because you will be seeing a jealous Santana and a bunch of angst with Sam. Prom will probably be a bunch of cuteness.**

**I think I'll make some sort of list next chapter thanking everyone who has reviewed at all on this story. :D**

* * *

Since Santana's head was already pounding, the noise of her parents' bickering coming from the other side of the wall didn't provide much relief. It didn't help the fact that it was nine at night, she had gone to bed early, and was trying to get to sleep, either. Her eyes were closed, and she opened them briefly, studying the white ceiling of her bedroom. Though she knew she still had a fever, it was not quite so high as before, at least. Sam had been so attentive with the way she was feeling that he made her stay home from school just a couple days after she'd started to feel really sick. Well, he hadn't _made_ her, really, no one could make her do anything; she had just finally relented at his incessant resolve for her to get some rest. She was sort of grateful someone cared enough to make her do something she didn't care enough to do for herself. Sometimes it seemed as if he was the only who knew what was best for her. It had made her happy (not that she'd admit that to him, she'd just acted annoyed about it).

Thankfully her mother had been out most of the day, so she was mostly on her own, lying in bed, doing nothing. And her father had returned home shortly from his work trip, since it had only been a day long, so he acted as the mediator between the two of them when he got home. At dinner her appetite had been almost completely lost, and she hadn't touched much of her food. She mostly just pushed it around on her plate, feeling nauseous. Her mother suggested, in a tone that always had an underlying feel of command to it, for her to eat something. But her father had defended her, telling her mom to remember it was difficult to eat when ill.

However, though her father had prevented her mother from getting her to eat, and even to study (when she was fucking _sick_, no less), he obviously failed to prevent arguments. Judging from what little she was allowing herself to listen to, it seemed as if he was losing. As always.

She sighed, rolled over, and tried to tune them out. Her eyes closed again, and the sound of her parents became further away. Reality started to dissolve, and eventually she was lulled to sleep.

* * *

Usually Santana was a lucid dreamer, and therefore knew when she was dreaming. But that night, when she dreamt, she thought it was all real, which made it all the more frightening.

She was standing in her kitchen, holding onto her grade report. It was odd, because it didn't even seem to be her kitchen. It seemed foreign, like it wasn't really her house. The contrast of the black ink on the white of the report seemed to hurt her eyes: it was all F's. When she looked up, her parents were standing there too, staring at her. Their gazes were intensifying. Scarily so. Then the whites of their eyes began to turn black, and Santana opened her mouth to scream, but so sound escaped. Her mother was yelling now, but she couldn't hear a word. Although Santana couldn't decipher what she was saying, it seemed as if she was being told to leave, from the way her mother was jabbing her finger towards the door. Suddenly, the words pierced through the silence like a siren.

_Leave! Leave, and never come back!_

For some reason, she found this a completely rational proposition for receiving failing grades, so she did what she was told. She left. Her vision was blurring- everything was _moving_- she suddenly felt a lot smaller-

-and she was six years old again, lost in the grocery store, the really big kind with high ceilings and lots of rows. Her mother was nowhere in sight. Santana was looking for her frantically, pushing past people, everyone was so big and tall and it was hard to see; it was crowded because it was close to Thanksgiving. She kept coming up to the wrong women who were wearing similar black coats. They were so busy with looking for groceries that they didn't even pay much attention to her.

Soon Santana found her mom, finally, in the canned foods section. She seemed to be looking for her daughter too, Santana had never seen her mother so distraught. And then she was crying and yelling and her mother's face flooded with relief. Leaping into her arms, she couldn't think of a time when she had felt so safe and _wanted_. She looked up, expecting a countenance full of the warmth and kindness it always seemed to have when she was a little girl- but instead, her mother's expression was hardened, her eyes widened in fury. Santana was shocked; what had she done? Her mouth was moving, but Santana couldn't hear anything, and she wanted to say so, but she couldn't speak. Abruptly, her mother pushed her daughter away and started to weave through the crowd. There were so many bodies rushing by that her view was obstructed and Santana couldn't see where her mother was going; she tried to call out to her, to do _anything_ to make her stay, to ask her what she did wrong-

-and she was awake, back in her bed with eyes wide, gasping, limbs tangled amongst the sheets, slick with perspiration. Her fever must have broken during the night. Shakily bringing her hand up to touch her cheek, she realized it was not just sweat that moistened her face, but tears. Her breathing was fast and panicked, and her mind tried to process the events of the dream. She shuddered, remembering how her parents had looked at her, their eyes full of loathing, but mostly just _disappointment_.

And all of a sudden, she recalled the latter half of the dream. That had been a _real memory_. Well, the part where she had lost her mother in the grocery store was real, and when she found her. Not the part where her mother had left her, looking so angry. Thinking back, little moments like seeing the pure relief and joy on her mother's face when Santana found her again were the last she could remember of her mother regarding her with any affection. They were scattered, but precious. Precious because they simply didn't exist anymore. When Santana was younger, her mother had worked a day job like her father, so she spent a lot of time in daycare. The time after school would be long and boring, waiting to be picked up. Every time her mother came to get her, brown eyes dreary from a long day at work, Santana recalled how they'd always light up when she rushed up to her mamá, enveloping her into a hug.

Yet now her dream- no, _nightmare_- had turned a nice memory into something so horrid. Her memory of her old mother- one that was loving -had morphed with her current mother, one full of harshness and disapproval. It was only after Santana sat up did she realize she was still crying. Soft sobs shook her body, and she pulled the sheets around her, shivering. When she was little, she often had bad dreams when she was sick. And she always woke up so terrified. Not much scared the Latina, so she didn't know why, but nightmares were the worst. It was if they brought to light what she believed to be the realities of her life. Dreams that no one really liked her, that they just tolerated her. Dreams of abandonment, of cold, frightening, dark rooms where she would be alone forever. Occasionally, as a little girl, she'd wake up screaming from the more stereotypical nightmares like those of monsters, and her parents would rush in to console her.

But glancing at the clock, Santana knew that her father had left for work already, and her mother had left for her early morning workout. Besides, though she still had nightmares sometimes, she hadn't talked about them to anyone in a long time, even her parents. Her breathing quickened, and her heart rate increased- the feeling of panic was taking control. This wasn't the first time it had happened, these near-panic attacks. They occurred when she was scared or thinking she'd always be alone.

She hated feeling like this. It was all so pathetic.

Grabbing her cell phone from the nightstand, she scrolled into her contacts and pressed send on a whim.

"Santana?"

Sam's voice made her feel overwhelmed with relief. She opened her mouth to speak, her lips chapped. "Sam, I…" she managed to choke out, not believing how dry her throat felt and how hoarse her voice sounded.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, sounding worried. "I was about to leave for school, should I come over?"

"I-I, well, no," Santana sputtered, trying to find words, any words. Her breath was still coming out in ragged heaves. "I just… I had a nightmare." She winced at how pitiable it sounded. Why the fuck did she even call him? She wasn't a little girl anymore. She didn't need anyone to comfort her; she was fine on her own. "But, god- it was so fucking scary, with the _eyes_, and they didn't care, they never care-"

"I'm coming over," Sam decided, interrupting her unintelligible ramble, and Santana's eyes widened in surprise. She was about to protest, but the click on the other line signaled that he had hung up.

* * *

Santana opened the door slowly, squinting into the early morning daylight and inwardly cringing at the fact that she was still dressed in her oversized t-shirt and sweatpants with her hair mussed from sleep. Sam stood on the porch, frowning, his face etched with concern. His eyes were searching and desperate; she impulsively brought her hand to her face as if to cover the bareness of her expression, to cover the evidence of crying. Fresh tears were still threatening to fall. She felt almost naked. He walked into the foyer after she stepped back a little to let him through, and she found she couldn't meet his eyes.

The sound of his voice echoed throughout the stillness of her house. "What was your dream about?" he asked. His expression was serious and his voice cautious, like he didn't want her to get mad for asking (even though _she_ was the one who called _him_).

Santana studied the crevices in the hardwood floor. She didn't even know how much she wanted to tell him, and she felt idiotic, calling him here because of a stupid nightmare.

"It was… it was about my parents," she began, taking a deep, quivering breath. Silence hung in the air for a few moments. Santana shifted her weight, and started to fiddle with her hands before she realized what she was doing and hastily brought her arms to her sides. She really needed to stop that habit.

"And…?" Sam prompted, his voice gentle.

"My parents are… not exactly the most supportive of everything I do," she said, trying to choose her words carefully. "But they want a lot of things for me, so they push me to get good grades. My mother especially. She- I had a dream that they saw my report card and it was all F's-"- it was becoming harder to speak, she could feel the anxiety starting to come back- "-th-the look on their faces was so full of disappointment, almost _hatred_, and they kicked me out. And then there was this memory of when I got lost in the grocery store when I was little. I found her, eventually, and I remember the both of us being so happy to see one another. But in the dream, when I pulled away, she looked at me so fucking menacingly, and she started to yell and left me alone, lost in the crowd. And I just knew that she'd never come back. It's just, now, my mom never really cares in real life, either." And in her mind, this had started to become true, over the years.

Santana brought her eyes up to meet Sam's. Her heart clenched; he looked so patient, trying to understand, and _worried_ about her- it made the tears well up again. It was hard, sometimes, to remember someone cared. She tried hurriedly to rub her eyes, angry with herself, but Sam stepped toward her and gently took her wrist away from her face.

"Hey," he said, rubbing his thumb tenderly under her eye, making her scowl in embarrassment. "I'm really sorry that your parents act like they don't care, that they push you too hard. But they have to care, San. They love you. You're their daughter. It's just a dream, okay? A stupid nightmare. Your mom is still the same mom who was happy when she found her little girl in the grocery store."

"You don't know that," Santana said, her voice small, barely above a whisper.

"I do," he said earnestly, pulling her into a half hug, chin resting on her head. "Because even if she seems different now, I have to believe she still cares about her daughter. I can't say I know your mom but, how could she not love you, Santana?"

Santana buried her face in Sam's shirt, panic slowly subsiding, her breathing becoming less rapid. He smelled good, like soap. She didn't even mind that she looked gross and most likely did _not_ smell like soap. "You're going to be late for school," she mumbled, her voice muffled within the creases of fabric.

Sam laughed quietly. "You think that's what I care about right now?" He brought his hand to the arch of her back, rubbing comfortingly, and she relaxed at his touch. That was exactly what she needed. Comfort. Sam always seemed to bring that in her life. The steady sound of his heartbeat soothed her, and she clung on tighter, as if she was scared that he would push her away. He draped his other arm around her, enclosing her- _protecting_ her. They stayed like that for a little while. But eventually, she was the one who broke the embrace.

"You should go," she said finally, hating the feeling of having all her emotions out there. Even if it was Sam who was seeing them. "I'm fine. I was just being stupid."

She felt him study her for a moment, like he didn't believe her. "Are you sure?"

"_Yes_," Santana said, crossing her arms, her tone becoming defensive once again. She added more softly, "Thanks."

His smile was sort of sad and it was obvious he was still disquieted, but he nodded, gave her forehead a kiss that made her heart flutter a little, and left. As she watched him go, standing in the doorway, she had a desperate urge to call him back; she had a crazy thought that this was the last time he would ever care, that he would be done after all of this. That he would finally realize how he didn't want to be with her.

She shook her head; the thought was completely irrational. Santana hated herself when she got like this. She was supposed to be self-assured, fearless, and confident, believing that no one's opinion of her mattered. In reality, she knew that inside she was often quite the opposite of all those things.

It was Sam who saw that.

* * *

It was hard to drag herself to school the next day, but Santana managed. She had really only been half-listening all throught Glee, but then Mr. Schuester brought Emma in and they were talking about some new assignment. Apparently they had come up with an idea where they had to print a word or phrase of something that they were born with on a shirt in order to sing Born This Way, in order to be more accepting of themselves.

The first thing that came to mind upon hearing this was the word "_Bitch_". If you asked anyone, it would seem to describe her perfectly. Santana both loved and hated that fact. Because while she was revered for her attitude, it wasn't _her_. Not really. She was certainly brazen and biting, that was just in her personality. But of course that wasn't all she was. It was just all people (well, some people) saw her as.

Nevertheless, when she ended up choosing a word and printing a shirt, she went with "_Bitch_" because going with anything else was just too out of her comfort zone. This word was safe.

* * *

Later in the week, it was after school, the day of the Born This Way performance. Santana stood at her locker, just staring at it and thinking. The daze was broken, however, when she heard Sam calling her name. She looked up; he was wearing a white shirt with the phrase "_Trouty Mouth_" on it, and she smirked.

"Finally accepting your mouth, Evans?" she remarked, teasing, eyebrows raised.

"Hey, I'm fine with my mouth now," Sam said, grinning. "It's my defining feature."

"Well, I've made mine too," Santana said, unzipping her jacket to reveal her white shirt that she had already changed into.

Sam raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Somehow, I thought you'd pick '_Bitch_'," he said, and to Santana's suspicion, he looked a little sheepish. "So I don't want you to get mad, but…" He opened his backpack, slinging it onto one shoulder, and pulled out another white shirt. "I actually made you one."

Santana's mouth opened a little. The shirt read "_Has Feelings_".

"People see you as something you're not really," Sam explained carefully. "I mean, yes, obviously you can be direct and sure, you revel in being spiteful towards others, but there's so much more to you than that. Sometimes people don't see you as the real you. One with feelings, one with emotions, one with problems just like everyone. They see you as cold and nothing else. You don't have to wear this if you want, I just… I want them to see the girl I see."

Santana honestly wasn't sure how to react. Angry that he'd taken the initiative about something like this; annoyed that he knew her so well, that he'd known what she'd resort to for her shirt phrase, because it was just too hard to put anything else? Grateful that he was one of the few that really did see her for her?

She decided on angry and annoyed, because old habits die hard. "I'm not going to wear that," she snapped. "You shouldn't have made it. I've already made mine, and I was born a bitch, so that's what I'm going to go with. Besides, that idea is _stupid_, people know I have feelings. Can I help it if my feelings are just usually directed towards being honest and calling out other people's shit?"

Sam shrugged, as if he was expecting this, and handed her the shirt. She took it relunctantly. "Just think about it, okay?"

* * *

Anxiety was coming on again, slowly, rippling through her like _waves_. Waves that were ever constant and it was like they wouldn't stop, even though they eventually always did.

The Born this Way performance started. Santana saw Sam watching her expectantly; their shirts were covered for the time being. Finally, when they shed their jackets and sweatshirts, she knew his face fell a little when he saw she had picked her own shirt for the performance.

However, as the show went on, after Santana took a deep breath and had thought _fuck it_, she pulled off the "_Bitch_" shirt and flung it off the stage, revealing the second white shirt, "_Has Feelings_", underneath.

And at the end of the song, when everyone was cheering and congratulating one another, Sam took one look at Santana and smiled, and she couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

**A/N: So was the shirt changing thing not a good idea? I suppose I could've made it "Has Anxiety" or "Is Vulnerable" but I'm not sure Sam would've gone that far, really. I don't know if that would have even been plausible (ha see what I did there). But in my story, it seems she's prone to sort of anxiety attacks because of her fear of loneliness and abandonment. **

**I mean, does "Has Feelings" make enough sense?**

**Ehh I hope you guys don't hate it. At least this chapter was nice and long.**

**Reviews are my favorite. I love you so much when you review. Please, please, tell me what you think!**


	14. Homesick

**A/N: Ughh I'm worried about this update. I have more ideas, I believe, for next chapter. More Rumours next chapter, then Prom, then Funeral, then New York. :D**

**I love you all, and when you review, I love you more. Reviews make my life. Just saying.**

* * *

When he first got the news, it felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He wasn't really able to comprehend, at first; but then, he supposed he must have seen it coming for a while.

Sam's father had lost his job. But it was more than that. They had lost their entire house. _Their_ house. A house he and his family had grown so accustomed to over the past months. A house where they had begun to feel comfortable in. Where, as he had stood in the living room one last time, absorbing the recently acquired information, the familiar smells still lingered, where the light blue paint covered the walls, where yellow curtains in the kitchen contributed to a cozy atmosphere. No, they had not just lost their house, but their home.

Everything happened so quickly. It seemed like only a second ago when everything was normal; then they were literally _kicked out_ of their own house. Sam and his family were forced to live in a motel, of all places. A dirty motel, where the paint peeled and traffic roared through the thin walls and there was always a grimy sort of stench hanging low in the air. Where there was not enough room for everyone; where it was strange and foreign and uncomfortable.

It most certainly did not feel like a home.

* * *

They began to sell their things to make ends meet.

His guitar was one of the first things to go. It could be sold for a reasonable price, and his parents deemed it superfluous, so Sam really didn't have any choice.

When the day came to sell it, he lingered, took it out of its case one last time, and, laying it on the bed, he stood there, staring at it. He ran his hand down the side, relishing in its smooth feel. It was not a particularly expensive acoustic model, but it was trusty, reliable, loved. And now it would be someone else's. They simply did not have enough money anymore. They barely had enough for the necessities.

It was dusk, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow through the window. Sam usually thought this time of day was beautiful; but now, the soft light only further illuminated the unsightliness of the dingy room.

Sighing heavily, he picked up the guitar and put it back in its case. He glanced over and saw his younger sister standing there by the bed, gazing intently at him.

"Why can't we go back to our home?" she asked, her eyes innocent, her expression questioning and naïve. Sam felt a constriction in his chest.

"This_ is_ our home now, Stacey," Sam said sadly, trying to smile for her benefit. For his own benefit, too. "It's our... temporary one."

His little sister looked bewildered, and to Sam's dismay, seemed almost ready to cry, but she merely nodded and went off to go play with their littlest sibling, no doubt.

Sam picked up his guitar case and left the shabby motel that they were now forced to call _home_ when it was anything but, propelling the inevitable process of shedding all the remnants of their past life. The life that he was so desperately trying to hold onto but it was slipping, slipping fast, and he didn't know what he could do anymore to stop it.

* * *

The first week at school while living in a motel, Sam didn't say anything about it to anyone. Not even Santana. It was hard because every time he saw her, he was reminded of how _honest _she'd been with him when she told him about her problems with her parents (her mother in particular), and about how she often had nightmares because of her anxiety. She had opened up to him, and Santana Lopez did not open up to just anybody. Sam had felt so proud of her, also, when she chose the shirt he printed for the Born This Way performance. So it pained him that for some reason, he was unable to tell Santana about his own home situation. He wanted to, or at least, he _wanted_ to want to; he just could not get the words out.

It was the Friday of said week, the end of the school day, and Sam was putting things away in his locker slowly, lost in thought, when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned swiftly, startled.

"Geez, jumpy much?" It was Santana. She crossed her arms, raising a sculpted eyebrow, puzzlement clear on her face.

"I… yeah, I guess," Sam offered weakly, closing his locker. They laced their fingers together and began to walk down the hall, weaving through the hoard of students, trying to dodge the ever annoying teenagers who seemed to find it necessary to run through the crowd in their haste to leave.

"How about I go to your house today?" Santana suggested. "If we're going to study or whatever, we don't have to do it at my place all the time, as much as my mom loves to see me working hard." She added the last part with bitterness.

"No!" Sam said quickly. Too quickly. Santana looked at him in suspicion. He evaded her eyes and tried to focus on passing through the mob of people in the hallway. "I mean… our house is really dirty right now; we still have to do our spring cleaning, so…"

Santana shrugged. "Whatever, my place it is, then."

Sam inwardly cringed in frustration and guilt that he was hiding things from her now. He wished that he could bring himself to tell her. He just couldn't. At least, not yet.

* * *

This was perhaps only the second time Sam had seen Santana's mother. In fact, he hadn't actually met her before. When they'd gone on their "first date" before they were even a real couple, he'd met her father and shaken his hand, done the standard routine and all that. But her mother was barely present. He vaguely remembered her giving him a small wave and a thin smile from another room, before returning to whatever she'd been cleaning that day. Sam had gone to Santana's house a few other times, as well, but had still never really seen much of her mom.

So when Santana unlocked her front door and they stepped into the foyer, he was a little taken aback when the older Latina woman came bustling forward almost immediately, a stern look set on her face.

"Santana Mariangela Esmerelda Lopez," Santana's mother said firmly. "I do hope you brought this young man over for studying, and _not_ anything else."

Sam fought to keep a straight face upon learning his girlfriend's very long two middle names. It almost made him want to start using them himself.

Beside him, Santana sighed, exasperated. "He's my boyfriend, mom, and _yes_, god." The aggravation was radiating off of her so intensely that it was nearly papable, and he sensed that it would be best to keep moving on to her bedroom, lest some huge mother-daughter quarrel be started. He looked to her, touching her arm, and she snapped out of her anger. "Come on, Sam," she said, throwing one last dirty look to her mother, who now had her hands on her hips, looking ready to begin some sort of lecture, but glancing to Sam, had thought the better of it. For this, Sam was immensely thankful.

Santana's bedroom was somewhat simple. The walls were painted in light lavender. There were little hints of nostalgia here and there: photos of her and Brittany tacked to the mirror of her armoire (he noted that there were even photos of her and Quinn still around), Disney memorabilia, ceramic animals that looked like they were from her childhood lined up on her dresser. He didn't know why, but it always made him happy to be in her room. It was like he was seeing a glimpse into a younger and more innocent Santana.

Abruptly, Sam felt a stab of distress at the fact that he didn't have his own room anymore. The cheap motel room they found was quite small, with no actual bedrooms; there was one small bed inhabited by his two younger siblings, a sofa bed for his parents, and a makeshift bed for himself. It wasn't as if he'd made his old room that personalized; it had been somewhat plain. But it still was nice to _have_ one, and he'd taken it for granted. As they sat down on the floor by the end of her bed, he closed his eyes briefly, trying to forget about everything that had happened, trying to adjust himself to think of soley studying and Santana.

But images of the sadness on his family's faces kept flooding back to his mind: how his father, usually quite a cheerful man, had nearly broken down and cried the morning they had to evacuate. How his siblings didn't even really know why they had to leave.

"Are you okay? You look out of it."

Santana's voice broke through his thoughts. He opened his eyes and found her to be staring at him with a furrowed brow; she looked as concerned as he had been for her only the other week. Sam shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm fine," he said, trying to convince both her and himself. More waves of guilt lapped through his consciousness; lying felt terrible.

As if to make up for it, he turned to her then, and kissed her. Santana hesitated at first, surprised, but recovered quickly and responded with warmth, melting into the kiss. His hand went to her face, and she ran her hands down the back of his neck, then down his shoulders and over his chest, gripping his shirt, causing him to shudder with pleasure as they came up for air and instantaneously delved back in, hungry for more. Sam could feel the heat radiating from her skin as their bodies started to almost gravitate towards each other as if being pulled; his pulse quickened and his desire grew, his thoughts became muddled. Suddenly, she was pressed nearly flush against him, holding herself up with her hand on the white carpet, and Sam was definitely not complaining. Finally they broke it, gasping.

"What was that for?" Santana breathed.

Sam opened up his mouth to speak, wanting more than ever to tell her what was going on, knowing she would be sympathetic about it. But perhaps it was sympathy he didn't want; so instead, he decided on, with all seriousness because at least it was honest, "I really like you."

"I… really like you, too," she replied slowly, smiling and looking confused, eyeing him with curiosity.

Well. Although that had helped get his mind off the whole motel situation, it was not very easy to concentrate on studying.

* * *

That Sunday after church, as people filed out of the pews, Sam found himself being approached by the one person he really didn't feel like having any sort of confrontation with.

"Sam."

"Quinn."

She stood before him, clad in a modest green cotton dress, with her blonde hair tied up. He honestly hoped this was as far as the conversation would get, but she kept speaking.

"I wanted to say," Quinn began tentatively, "that I'm really sorry for everything that happened between us."

"I've been over that for a while," Sam said.

"I know you have," Quinn replied, eyes cast downward. "It's just… I never really properly apologized for how I acted."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, not exactly sure what to think of his ex-girlfriend's sudden repentance. It's true that the last time she apologized was only to insult Santana, even though at the time, he and Santana certainly were using each other. But he couldn't help but feel Quinn meant it. "Okay, well, um… thanks."

His younger brother came up to him all of a sudden, tugging on his sleeve. "Are we going back to our motel home now?" the young boy asked. Sam glanced sharply at Quinn, whose eyes had widened slightly.

"Yeah," he told his brother. "Go on and find mom." He nudged the little boy towards their mother, who was waiting at the other end of the pew. His brother, however, clung to Sam's side, looking up with a childlike shyness at the blonde girl in front of them. Quinn opened her mouth to speak and Sam cut her off.

"Look, I don't need your pity."

"And I wasn't going to give it to you," Quinn said carefully. She looked prepared to say something else, too, but a shriek of delight rang through the air.

"_Quinn!_"

It was Sam's younger sister, Stacey. When Quinn and Sam were still dating, Stacey had grown very fond of the older blonde; Quinn had come over quite a lot and had gotten close to his siblings. This was partially because he knew Quinn wished for younger siblings of her own, and partially because she harbored maternal instincts that made her want to dote on children.

"Hey, Stace," Quinn greeted, breaking into a warm smile. "How are you?"

"Not so good," she said, as truthful as all children are, walking up to her. "We have to live in a dirty, old motel now. I hate it!"

Quinn looked from Stacey to Sam, obviously a little thrown by this new development.

"Why don't you come over?" Stacey asked, looking excited by this great new idea she had thought of. Their younger brother nodded enthusiastically, still clinging to Sam's arm.

"Stace," Sam started warily. How was he supposed to tell his six-year-old sister that he didn't want Quinn in their provisional home?

"_Ple-ease_, Sammy?" Stacey looked to her older brother, eyes wide. Sam groaned. He hated it when she did that.

"I don't have to, Sam." Quinn shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable and unsure on what to do.

"No, you do!" the young girl insisted, stamping her foot for emphasis.

Sam sighed, and, hardly believing he was about to agree to this, said, "No, it's fine, for Stacey's sake, you can." He turned to his little sister, and added, "But just this one time, okay?"

"Yay!" Stacey squealed, practically jumping up and down.

"Well, I can't today," Quinn said, grinning at the little girl's eager anticipation, "but I am free Thursday after school, and I'll certainly come and play with you then, okay, Stacey?" The younger blonde nodded, beaming.

Sam immediately felt extremely guilty that Quinn found out everything and Santana hadn't. It's not like he'd been planning on telling anyone yet, Quinn had found out by accident. But now she was coming over, acting like an alternate mother to his younger siblings. Worse still, he doubted that Stacey would have even wanted Santana to come over to play with her; Santana hadn't really connected with his younger siblings on account of not seeing them that much. It also wasn't inherent in her personality to fawn over children like it was in Quinn's. Even so, he would much rather it been Santana to find this out first. Now it was too late.

Yet, while he left the church with his family, he also felt relieved that his sister was actually happy about something, after looking so dejected all the time. Sam wanted to bring any bit of joy into his siblings' lives that he could, because right now, he knew that they needed it.

* * *

**A/N: Eh, I feel like this update isn't that good. D: I hope you guys like it, though... Next chapter will pretty much for sure be longer, and I think it'll be more fun to write. Idk if Quinn actually likes children, even if she is a mother, but let's pretend she does. xD**

**Kurt will still find out too, you just won't technically see it happen, I believe it'll just be mentioned. But this means Kurt would find out during the time period between Sunday and Thursday.**

**I appreciate every single review I recieve, and they honestly motivate me, so please review if you're still reading this story!**


	15. Misundertandings and Trust

**A/N: Good lord, finally have this done and up. I would really _reeeally_ appreciate if you guys could review this one, because it's so long and it took me longer than usual to finish (hence I haven't updated for almost 2 weeks- the first time since I started this story). So if you review, I'll love you forever.**

**I'm taking out the rumor that Kurt was seen with Sam, so the first stakeout Finn and Rachel go on won't exist. Honestly, it makes things too complicated. xD There is only one stakeout happening. Kurt will still have gone to visit Sam, which will be made clear later, but Finn and Rachel (and Santana) won't see it happen.**

* * *

The sight of Rachel Berry approaching her with a very determined look on her face was hardly one of the first Santana was expecting to see Thursday morning as she was putting away her things into her locker.

"Santana, I have to talk to you," Rachel said firmly, her arms crossed over her sweater.

Santana eyed for a second, curious about what she could possibly want to talk to her about. But mainly she just felt apathetic. "What do you want, Midget?" the darker haired girl asked lazily, shutting her locker and slinging her backpack onto her shoulders. She began to make her way to her first class, and Rachel followed by her side.

"Well, normally I wouldn't go out of my way to tell you anything, since you are rather rude and harsh at times. Granted, you are not all _that _intimidating to me anymore-"

"Fucking get to the point," Santana snapped. She inwardly cringed a little; she really was trying to get better at being nicer to people, being with Sam made her want to do that- it was just hard to stop being who she usually was around others.

Rachel stopped walking, and Santana turned around to face her, becoming more impatient by the second.

"I read a rumor in the new school newspaper _The Muckraker_ that Sam and Quinn were…" Rachel bit her lip and shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable. "Well, there was something about a motel room and them committing not so wholesome actions in said room…"

Santana's initial reaction was a wave of sheer panic and a dozen scenarios whipped through her mind. But she shook it off quickly because her rational side kicked in. One: Sam would not do that to her. Two: The Muckraker was just some newspaper full of rumors restarted by Sue Sylvester; most likely, none of the things in there were true.

So she just rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, please, Berry. That newspaper is so full of shit, it's not even funny. I don't believe that for a second. There's no proof, and besides, Barbie is the one who cheated on _him_. Sam is not a cheater. I trust him." And she added a condescending smile at the end, just to prove her point.

"As much as I would like to agree with you…" Rachel's voice trailed off and her eyes fell on something else; Santana followed the brunette's gaze and turned around.

Sam was talking to Quinn by his locker. He didn't look particularly engaged in the conversation, but he didn't look totally bored, either. Santana strained here ears, trying to eavesdrop: but it was impossibly, they were too far away and the hoard of teenagers was too loud. The blonde girl laughed at something Sam said, and he smiled a little. Then Quinn walked away, giving him a small wave. He watched her go, and Santana couldn't decipher his expression: he looked… concerned, maybe? Troubled?

Santana felt her heart drop and stomach tighten. But she was not losing her self-control yet. She willed herself to smile again, like she thought the whole thing was stupid, and turned back to Rachel.

"So they're on… speaking terms- whatever," Santana said, trying to sound confident. "That doesn't mean anything."

"But it _might_," Rachel insisted. "And this is exactly the reason I am planning on going on a stakeout with Finn tonight at the location of the motel; its name was conveniently placed in the rumor in the newspaper. Finn deserves to know what's going on, too."

"I am not going on some stupid stakeout with you and Finnocence at some random motel," Santana retorted irately, starting to get angry at Rachel now for even suggesting this, as to avoid the potential rage of jealousy and dread threatening to overtake her. So _what_ if Sam and Quinn were talking again? It didn't mean anything, okay? Sam wouldn't do that to her. He couldn't. He _wouldn't. _

"Look, just think about it, okay?" Rachel said, her voice becoming gentle. It pissed Santana off; she didn't want pity, nothing was even wrong. Without answering, she turned around sharply to continue walking to class. But she knew learning would be the last thing on her mind.

She didn't see Sam much for the rest of the day, but it's not as if she was about to confront him if there was nothing to worry about. Sam was trustworthy, and that was that. He was a good person, and Santana believed he was a much better person than her. She couldn't even imagine him doing something like that- especially when it had been done to him.

But as the day wore on, the nervousness came creeping back into Santana's consciousness. It couldn't hurt to make be absolutely _sure_ about all of this. Maybe a stakeout wasn't so bad of an idea. She didn't believe it, but she might as well prove Rachel wrong. Yeah. Just prove her wrong about all of this. Besides, Rachel didn't know what she and Sam had. Most of the Glee club probably thought they were in the same sort of relationship as before. They probably thought Sam would jump at the first chance to get away from her. No guy ever wanted to stay with her, after all, and she had never wanted to stay with them. This was her first real relationship, and the rest of the Glee club had never seen her in that. But if it was all messed up that fast, Santana honestly wouldn't know what to do. She couldn't imagine opening up to anyone again.

Santana decided she would go along with Rachel and Finn, just to verify what she already knew.

* * *

Santana drummed her fingers against the interior of the car door impatiently. She was sitting in the backseat of Finn's car, with Finn and Rachel in front. Rachel was using _binoculars_, for fuck's sake, acting like this was some sort of spy mission. The Latina sighed. This was all so stupid; she could hardly believe she had gone along with this on the mercy of a rash decision.

The dark velvet of the night sky was sprinkled with bright stars. They were parked in front of a shabby motel, and had been sitting there for about forty minutes.

"We're not going to see anything, the rumor is fake," Santana said suddenly, breaking the silence in the car. Finn turned around to face her, doubt etched on his face, and it made Santana feel slightly nauseous with dread. She pushed the feeling hurriedly inside.

"Quinn cheated on me with Puck, and I helped her cheat on Sam," Finn said, his voice quiet. "I have to be sure."

"Well, I know for one that Sam is a good guy," Santana said with conviction. She looked at Rachel and gestured to Finn. "And unlike Frankenteen here, he wouldn't be dumb enough to cheat on me. This is just such an idiotic idea." Rachel opened her mouth and closed it slowly, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. The diva looked worried, too. Couldn't they just get a fucking grip? They were _not_ going to see anything bad, they _weren't_, _they weren't…_

Santana's breathing sped up a little and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down.

Then she heard Rachel whisper, "Oh my god." Santana looked out the window, towards the motel room.

Quinn was walking out of the room, rubbing her hands together in the chill of the night air. Sam followed her out, and said something, before hugging her briefly. The blonde girl walked away then, and Sam's eyes lingered on her before he returned into the room.

The horrible, nauseous feeling attacked Santana with full force. She couldn't breathe. A bitter taste was forming in her mouth. She vaguely heard Finn muttering, "I can't believe she did this."

No. This couldn't be happening. Santana Lopez did not open herself up to a guy for once, and allow herself to like him (_really_ like him) and actually be in a _relationship _with him, a fucking real relationship, with this happening. He told her he didn't have feelings for Quinn anymore, he told her he had feelings for _her_. Was that a lie? How much of it was the truth? Was all of it lies?

"Santana? …Santana?"

Santana looked up. It was Rachel, and she was looking at her with the most concern she had ever seen the diva look at her with. Her voice sounded so far away; it was audible, yet so muffled, it was if she was yelling at her from a great distance. Santana dropped her gaze to the floor; she almost felt like passing out, because she couldn't stand this awful, dizzy feeling, and she just wanted to make it _stop_. It was if all of these horrid emotions were hitting her at the same time with full force and she felt like she was drowning in them. And she couldn't bear that Berry and Hudson, no less, were witnessing her at her worst.

"Are you okay?" It was Finn that time. He looked upset too, and angry, but not as much, and he looked sort of worried, with his brow scrunched up in that confused way that seemed to be his permanent expression. He was probably half-expecting this to happen, sooner or later. He had been in this type of situation before.

"What…" Santana gasped, surprising herself with how difficult it was to speak. "What do you fucking _think_? Do I _look_ okay?"

"That did look really bad…" Finn said tentatively. "But we don't know all the details." But he didn't look like he believed his own words; he was just trying to convince himself.

"I saw all the details I needed to! You think I don't know you two think Sam and I are a fucking joke? That he doesn't care about me? That the whole Glee club thinks that? Well, I hope you're happy: suspicions confirmed!" Santana gave a bitter, forced laugh, and Rachel and Finn looked at each other in unease. "Looks like we were a fraud of a couple after all; I should have fucking known. I should have _known_…" Santana's voice trailed off and she took a shuddering breath. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to feel. All she wanted to do was let the numbness of apathy override all of the pointless emotions.

Somehow she managed to demand Finn to drive her home. Upon arriving, she said with an eerie composure, "Thanks, Hudson." Finn looked alarmed, probably because of her sudden mood change and the fact that she doubted she had ever thanked him for anything.

"Santana, I know things seem bad right now, but-" Rachel began but was cut off.

"I don't need your concern, _Dwarf_," Santana interrupted venomously. To be honest, Santana was surprised she still had the ability to form words. Rachel looked hurt at her hostility, and Santana felt sort of bad, but not bad enough to apologize.

Stepping out of the car and pressing the door shut, Santana slowly walked to her front porch. She fumbled with the key; her hands were shaking. But at least the numbness had settled in: the shock found its way into her system to stifle all the other feelings threatening to overflow. Because she couldn't let herself cry over this. Not yet.

* * *

The morning after, Santana stood by her locker again, blocking out the mindless chatter from everyone in the hallway, lost in her thoughts. Except she didn't want to think. It hurt too much. So she focused on staring at a certain point on the floor, pouring all her concentration into it. It was working quite well, actually. If she focused hard enough, the markings on that tile could look like a face…

"Hey."

_Fuck_.

Sam's voice reeled Santana in and she nearly felt happy for a second, but then the events of the evening prior hit her, causing her stomach to constrict. She didn't want to look up, but she forced herself to. Sam stood there, leaning against the lockers, with his hands shoved in his pockets, smiling slightly. He looked so innocent- it made her want to scream in rage. But mostly, the outweighing emotion coursing through her body was an irrefutable sadness.

"Leave me alone, _Evans_," Santana spat angrily.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Santana, what's wrong?"

"Like you don't fucking know?" Her voice was growing louder; her thoughts were becoming jumbled and incoherent. "Don't play dumb with me. Just… just leave me _alone_." She knew her voice broke just then, and she had to get away from him before she started crying. This was reminding her terribly of when they had broken up before. Except that time, she had broken it off with him because it was becoming way too real and she'd thought he didn't like her.

Now Santana was having a hard time believing it all wasn't a lie.

So she left him there, not bothering to let him explain himself. She knew she should hear him out. She _knew_ that. It would be the smart thing to do. But she really didn't want to ask about what she had seen, because she was afraid she already knew the answer.

* * *

"_I don't want to know the reasons why love keeps, right on walking on down the line. I don't want to stand between you and love, honey, take a little time_."

Quinn and Finn strutted around each other in the choir room as they sang their chosen song for Mr. Schuester's latest assignment: to pick a song from Fleetwood Mac's album "Rumours". The rest of the class looked rather uncomfortable due to the obvious resentment radiating from both of the singers towards each other. Santana shifted in her seat, her arms crossed. She had deliberately chosen to sit on the other side of the chair rows from Sam, and she could feel his eyes boring into her.

As she watched Finn while he and Quinn finished the duet, she had an idea, all of a sudden. This whole thing between her and Sam had started on revenge, hadn't it? Basically, they had just got together to make Quinn and Finn jealous. Why couldn't she and Finn do the same to Quinn and Sam? Just to show them up?

Sam didn't have to know how Santana was really feeling. Never mind that she constantly felt like crying and her anxiety was building up slowly and the nauseous sensation that had instigated from seeing him from Quinn didn't seem like it was going away anytime soon. He didn't have to know that. She would show him that she didn't care (even though she really,_ really _did).

As soon as the bell rang, she jumped out of her seat and headed towards Finn, practically dragging him by the arm out of the choir room and into the crowded hallways, in order to avoid Sam coming up to her.

"Woah, woah, hold on," Finn sputtered, trying to get his balance because she had pulled him so hard.

"Okay, Hudson, here's the deal," Santana said, her bitch mask falling perfectly in place. "You and I are going to get our revenge on the Biebs and Barbie. Show them that they can't mess with us."

"Wait… so you want us to flirt… or something?" Finn said, looking confused. God, did he ever not look confused?

"Sam and I were basically doing that to you and Quinn at first, anyway," Santana shrugged, trying her hardest to look indifferent. It used to be so easy to appear nonchalant; now she had gotten too used to letting go and being honest.

"Yeah, at _first_," Finn said carefully, looking her in the eye. "I mean, it seemed like a joke. But after you two broke up and got back together again… I don't know, you looked so _happy_. I could tell something was different. That there was something real there." He surprised her with that one. People really did believe in the two them as a couple?

"Well, that makes two of us, but obviously there wasn't," Santana snapped, avoiding his gaze. "Whatever, I don't really care."

Finn just stared at her with this brow furrowed, obviously not buying her charade. Why the hell was is it so easy lately for people to see right through her? "Look, I confronted Quinn and she said that there was nothing going on between her and Sam. And while I find it really hard to believe her after what she's done, but… I just… I have to, you know?"

"Why the fuck would you believe anything she says?" Santana retorted angrily. "She's a known liar."

"But Sam isn't. Why don't you trust him?"

The little rational, annoying voice in her mind replied, '_Because I didn't actually let him explain himself. Because I'm too scared of what he'll say. Because everyone leaves me, so why shouldn't he?'_

She ignored it.

"Come on," Santana said, frustrated and getting a bit desperate. "Let's just do this for a little bit, okay? Tomorrow, in Glee. So I can call him out, and he'll see what a mistake he made denying this hot piece of action."

Finn appeared hesitant, but nodded anyway. It was only after he left, when she stole away into the girls' restroom and locked herself in a stall, did she finally start to cry.

* * *

The next day, the sun shone radiantly through the windows of the school hallway; the sky was a brilliant, clear blue with an abundance of cumulous clouds. It definitely contradicted with what Santana was feeling inside as she made her way slowly to Glee: horrid, swirling trepidation alongside the sadness that hadn't disappeared over the last two nights. In fact, the misery had just grown deeper.

Somehow she had managed to avoid Sam the whole day. Even in their shared classes such as Government, she'd asked the teacher to switch seats for the day because he was trying to talk to her. He had probably sent her at least ten text messages, as well as leaving voice mails every hour. Her phone, currently sitting in her pocket, had been vibrating so often she almost turned it off. But now it was crucial to her plan.

Walking into the choir room, she noted Finn was there early, just as she commanded he be.

"Finnocence," Santana greeted simply with a forced smirk pulling on her lips, and she walked up to him, placing her hand on his chest and running it down slowly. She knew that Sam and Quinn were coming in any minute because she made Brittany to find an excuse to walk with them and to text her when they were on their way. She'd received the text already; and Brittany was going to send her a text right before they walked in the door. "Ready to put on a show?"

Finn flinched a little at her touch. "This seems really… wrong, Santana."

"Please. They are so in the wrong here, it's not even funny. Now shut up."

Santana brought her hand to his shoulder then, her neck craning to look up at him (he was so goddamned _tall_) and Finn leaned down a little, expression apprehensive. He put his hand on her shoulder then too: it all felt so contrived, and his touch felt so _weird_- not at all like it was when Sam touched her. When Sam touched her, her heart fluttered and her stomach tightened but in a good way, and it always felt so nice-

-except, now, that wouldn't happen again. She shook her head a little, trying to forget about everything. The whole thing was so awkward because they were just sort of standing there, frozen, hands in place. Finn's eyes darted nervously around the classroom.

"I, so, um… how's your day so far?" Finn asked, giving a pathetic attempt to make small talk.

Santana just gave him a look like he was stupid.

The phone in her pocket buzzed. Sam was about to come in. Santana immediately put her other hand on Finn's arm suggestively, and started to laugh, "Wow, Finn, that is _hilarious_!"

Her blonde boyfriend walked in the room at that exact moment, Brittany and Quinn in tow. He looked deeply confused at her proximity to Finn, if anything, not really all that jealous, like Santana had hoped. Quinn just raised her eyebrows. Did she look that unconvincing?

Class began, and she made sure she sat right next to Finn, touching his arm again every now and then, and, whenever the class wasn't discussing plans for Nationals, pretended to be engaged in conversation with him. He seemed a little more into the act once Quinn walked into the room right after the first late bell had rung. By the end of the period, the pair had successfully made Sam look rigid with infuriation, Quinn look frightfully annoyed, and the rest of the club just plain confused. Then, as soon as the bell rang, perhaps because Santana and Finn's flirting had become too much for him, Sam got up.

"Santana, can you just _stop_? What the hell are you even doing?" He was standing in front of her now. Quinn got up too, and stood behind him, her arms crossed. She was vaguely aware of the rest of the Glee Club watching them, frozen in their seats, apparently willing to be late to class in order to watch this new development.

"Oh, me?" Santana said innocently. "I'm not doing anything. Just sitting here, talking to a _friend_." Her voice became malicious, and she couldn't even stop herself. The words tumbled out of her mouth uncontrollably. "Unlike _some _people I know who sneak around and take their ex-girfriends to flimsy motels and do who the fuck knows!"

Sam blanched. "Wait, how do you even know about that?"

It was like the wind had been knocked out of her. So it was true. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and she blinked several times so they wouldn't fall, hating that it was impossible for her not to care.

"Well, great, I was right, then," Santana choked out, rising out of her seat.

"Wait, you're _cheating_ on Santana with the girl who cheated on you?" Tina's voice sounded dubious. Mike was sitting next to her, looking shocked.

"Okay, that is not cool," Mercedes said, and next to her, Kurt looked pained.

"I agree," Artie chimed in, raising his hand in affirmation.

"Yeah, man, what were you thinking?" Puck asked.

"You guys are jumping the gun here," Kurt said hastily.

"Wait, Kurt- did you know something about this?" Finn queried disbelievingly.

"I, for one, am appalled at both Sam and Quinn's actions," Rachel said fervently, and looked to Quinn. "You think you're just Miss Perfect Prom Queen- but you are a cheater!" Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I didn't cheat this time, and I'm _not_ lying," Quinn said, a hard edge to her voice.

"Oh, please, like anyone would believe you," Santana snarled, glaring at Quinn.

"So you haven't had your share of cheating or fooling around?" Quinn said, smiling innocently at Santana. "Did you forget that before you started dating Sam, you didn't give a shit about fidelity? I mean, no guy could ever get Loose Lopez to settle down into a relationship, who is to say you're not sleeping with some guy behind Sam's back?"

Infuriated, Santana rattled off in Spanish, "_Callate, __¡__eres una puta! __¡__Yo nunca le haría eso a Sam!_"

"Can you all just shut up?" Sam's voice rang out above everyone's, shocking the rest of the club into silence. He moved in front of Santana to block her from leaving. "You're not _listening_ to me, Santana," he said, looking completely worn out. "You thought I was cheating on you? Why didn't you trust me? Why didn't you let me _talk_ to you? I've been trying to get a hold of you nonstop since yesterday." He took a breath and looked warily around, aware that the whole class was still present. "Quinn was helping me babysit my little sister."

"Then why were you in that motel?" Finn asked, his tone judgmental.

Sam closed his eyes for a second out of aggravation. Opening them, his voice rose, "We live there, okay? My dad lost his job, and we lost our house. We live in a motel now, in one room. God, are all of you happy now?" The class was silent. Quinn bit her lip, looking frustrated.

Santana tried to speak, but couldn't form words. A forceful mixture of relief (god, _so_ much relief) and undeniable remorse flooded through her instantly. "Shit, I…"

Sam cut her off. "Look, Santana, I'm sorry Quinn found out about this before you, I was going to tell you. But I can't believe you wouldn't even let me _explain _to you what was going on- you just jumped to conclusions. Do you have that little faith in me? That little trust? And now you made me basically reveal my whole home life in front of everyone." He shook his head in disbelief, and Santana felt a lump forming in her throat because it was like he was giving up on her because she had made a stupid mistake.

"Why did you tell Quinn about this before me, then?" Santana asked, indignant, trying to maintain at least a little justification for her actions.

"I didn't _tell_ her. We go to the same church, and my little siblings mentioned it while she was around. Kurt found out, too." Santana's eyes flickered to Kurt, who was looking both sheepish and sad about the whole situation. "Because I got a job delivering pizzas and I happened to bring one to Dalton- he asked me why I was doing it. And he brought me some clothes."

The late bell rang then, and the rest of the club seemed to realize this wasn't a soap opera and they actually needed to get to class. People began to file out, and Sam took one last look at her before turning to leave, Quinn by his side.

"Sam, wait," Santana called, desperate.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, sounding disappointed in her. She felt disappointed in herself. And now she just felt so_ tired_. All of the emotions that had been plaguing her made way for new and just as heavy ones. Feelings of guilt, and anger- but at _herself_. She'd even said that she trusted Sam- so why couldn't she follow through with that? Why didn't she just let him explain himself instead of jumping the gun and making him announce his home situation in front of the entire class? She felt a stab of jealousy that Quinn had found out before her- but she still hadn't taken the initiative to confront Sam himself about the whole thing. In reality, she knew why she hadn't done it. She was just too afraid. Too afraid of confirming her own beliefs and having everything she had believed about herself (not being good enough for a guy in a real relationship) be true. Afraid of everything she had believed about Sam be _un_true. Maybe there was a small part of her that, crazily enough, that _wanted_ it to be true- so she could get hurt now, and not later, and just be done with the whole thing. Because she was just too scared. Relationships were… scary.

Finn stood up next to her, and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We need to fix this," he said with finality.

"No shit, Finessa," she barked. But glancing at him and seeing his sincerity, she softened her tone. "You're right."

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Santana reluctantly headed towards Quinn, who was putting books in her locker. It was after school. Seeing the Latina walk towards her, Quinn shut her locker, sighed, and asked, "What, Santana?"

"I just wanted to say… I'm sorry, I guess," Santana mumbled, avoiding the fellow ex-cheerleader's eyes. "I shouldn't have called you a… ahem, _puta_, when I didn't listen to either of you first."

Quinn looked a little shocked at this, but then said with her voice soft, "I'm sorry too, San… really." And Santana knew she was talking about more than just calling her loose (which Santana really did used to be, it was just fact). The Latina smiled a little then, and the blonde mirrored her expression. She was honestly glad that perhaps this could be the start of repairing their broken friendship.

* * *

The paint was peeling off of the outside of the motel, the shingles of the roof were shabby, and stray bits of garbage littered the cement ground here and there. Santana stood nervously outside the motel room door, the gentle wind causing her to shiver. Rachel and Finn were by her side, appearing just as apprehensive as she was.

"You guys go in first," Santana said suddenly. They looked at each other, then her. Finn nodded and Rachel shrugged.

She moved by the motel wall out of the way of the door, and after Rachel and Finn had gone inside with the door slightly ajar, she listened intently.

"What are you doing here?" Santana heard Sam ask warily. She heard Sam's little sister ask loudly to watch TV and Sam use the "big brother" voice he always used with his siblings that Santana loved.

"We came to apologize," Finn said earnestly. "And I brought you some clothes. I mean, I figured you'd prefer them over Kurt's."

Sam began to talk then about how when they take your house, they literally _take_ it. She felt her heart clench again; she wished she'd actually taken time to listen to what Sam had to say to defend himself, but no, she had lost all of her faith in him. Santana hated that doubting part of herself: never fully letting people in, never fully trusting in people. And a relationship had to have trust, or it wouldn't work. She shuddered, letting the shame coarse through her like waves, and then had a terrifying thought. What if Sam just didn't want to be with her anymore after this? What if he just had enough of her pushing him away when she was feeling insecure? She tried to calm down though, because then she heard Finn say, "Actually, we have something else for you."

Clutching the guitar case she had been holding the whole time in her hands, Santana came around from the wall and stepped into the motel room. A flash of emotions fluttered across Sam's face: surprise, affection, and some resentment.

"We all pitched in and bought it back for you after finding out from Kurt that you had pawned it," Rachel explained, nodding encouragingly to Santana, who placed the guitar case gingerly on the floor.

Sam looked at her for a moment, looking so fucking emotional it made chest tighten again.

"You guys… did this for me?" Sam said shakily. He opened the case and lifted the guitar out.

"Well, it was Santana's idea, actually," Rachel supplied. "But we all chipped in: the whole Glee club." Sam locked eyes with Santana, and her heart skipped a beat. His expression made her want to cry. Out of the corner of her eye, Santana saw Rachel have some wordless exchange with Finn.

"Um, we'll leave you guys be," Finn said, and Rachel nodded.

"Bye, Sam," Rachel said, smiling sadly. "And bye, Stacey!"

The little blonde girl, Sam's sister, who had been sitting on the bed with her brother watching cartoons, smiled broadly and waved. After Finn and Rachel left, Santana just stood there, feeling completely awkward and unsure on what to say, what she could possibly to say to make all of this better.

"Sam, I'm… I'm sorr-"

"Santana, no," Sam said quietly, his voice still wavering a bit. "_I'm _sorry. I should have told you that Quinn was coming over, and what with the whole rumor ridden newspaper and my history with her- you were bound to get suspicious. I'm just sorry for… making you _doubt_ in me."

"I'm so sorry that I doubted you." Santana took a deep breath; the lump in her throat was beginning to form again. She wasn't even really used to apologizing in the first place. "I want trust in this, in _us_, I do… it's just… it's hard sometimes to feel secure when I never really have before."

Sam gave her a sort of half smile. "I know."

Suddenly she was aware of a small figure staring at her. Santana glanced over to her left. Stacey was perched on the side of the bed, eyes bright.

"Um… hi?" Santana said uncertainly.

"I think she's a little scared of you," Sam said quietly, humor in his voice, glancing at his little sibling.

"I'm not!" Stacey protested. "She's just not as, you know, _nice_ and stuff as Quinn." Santana felt a stab of hurt. Sam's little sister continued, "But I like her, she's just different. That's nice too." The Latina grinned a little at that. She knew Quinn had probably been a much more obvious role model girlfriend for Sam's younger siblings, primarily his sister, so she was actually glad that Quinn had come over to take some of the dreariness out of his family's current life.

Sam got up from where he had been kneeling by his guitar. "Okay, guys," he said to his siblings. "It's seriously time for you to sleep now." He grabbed Stacey by the waist and hoisted her back onto the bed in a brotherly fashion, causing her and their little brother to squeal in laughter, and Santana crossed her arms and bit her lip to keep herself from smiling; he was such a _big brother_.

His little brother whined about missing a cartoon, but they settled down eventually. Sam walked over, outside the motel, and gestured for Santana to follow. She walked out, enjoying the cool air that hit her face. Facing him, he stepped towards her a bit, and brought his hand up to touch her face, stroking it with his thumb. God, it felt so _different_ than when Finn did that- with Sam, it was like an electric shock broke through her and warmth flooded through her whole body.

"Thanks for apologizing," he murmured. Then, laughing a little, "I know it's hard for you to do that."

Santana managed to smirk a little. "Well, don't expect it often." Her expression softened with sympathy. "I can't believe that all of... _this_ has happened." She gestured vaguely to the flimsy motel. "I mean… fuck." This was one of those times that Santana wished she was a little better with words, but Sam seemed to understand what she meant because he nodded sadly.

"That's life, I guess," he said and he smiled a bit, though in truth he looked defeated and just tired of everything, but so fucking strong because he really was being there for his family and Santana just wanted to hug him for it. So she brought her arms up over his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. He sighed heavily- it was like a sigh of both exhaustion and appreciation- and he brought his arms to enclose her, too.

Santana knew it was hard for her to trust people; she thought she really had trusted Sam, but she surprised herself with how easily her faith was shattered by a misunderstanding. She sort of hated herself for not listening to what he'd had to say before she let her emotions get the better of her. A relationship had to consist of trust and understanding, and it was hard to adapt, but Santana was learning. She wanted to learn. She didn't want this to end so quickly. It just felt too _nice_ being with Sam for it to end that soon.

As she pulled away, and their eyes met, his gaze burning with intensity, she wished she could do something else to just take away some of the pain. It was almost as if they were having a silent conversation with their eyes- because Santana almost felt desperate and pleading, pleading Sam to do something for him. Yet Sam met her gaze with reassurance, like he was saying everything would be okay, even though judging by the worry in his expression, he wasn't really sure of it at all. The only thing Santana could do was be with him.

So she did. They went back inside, noting how quickly Sam's younger brother and sister had fallen asleep, and simply sat on the sofa for a while in silence, Sam's arm around Santana's shoulders, his other across his lap. She stroked his hand with her thumb over and over, as if to lessen some of the stress, to lessen some of her own, as well. All was quiet, save for the occasional noise of traffic that penetrated through the thin walls, and the stirring of his siblings. It was pleasant to be comfortable with another person by just _being_ with them. And although there was nothing Santana could do to change the situation, she at least found solace in the fact that she could be somewhat of a comfort to Sam by just being there for him.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys liked this long chapter. :D Except Funeral and Prom next. Sorry if the Finntana plan is... odd. I almost made them kiss but decided against that. Also, I enjoy including Finntana, Pezberry, and Quinntana friendship developments. Btw, Spanish translation (I'm in Spanish IV but if I made an error, feel free to correct): _"Shut up! You're a bitch! I would never do that to Sam!"_**

**Reviews make me happy.**


	16. An Onlooker, Yet Not Really

**A/N: I really wanted to get this chapter up because I leave on Sunday to Europe for 13 days, so I won't be posting the next chapter until after the 4th of July. I didn't want to leave you hanging for a month, since I haven't updated for 2 weeks already. ****So, I put in events from Prom Queen, because I felt like I couldn't leave them out or it'd seem weird, but Sam and Santana aren't really involved directly in these events... oh well.**

**I still want to compile a list of everyone who has reviewed this story but I don't want to take up room when people just want to get to the chapter. **

**Edit: Apparently I updated the worst day possible: when the review feature wasn't working, so if you're reading now, it would be nice if you could review. ):**

* * *

Distant noise from the TV downstairs reverberated throughout the household, penetrating through Sam's consciousness, disrupting his indistinct flow of thoughts. He lay half on and half off of Santana's bed in her room, staring at the shapes formed in the white ceiling. The girl in question was currently at her computer doing homework, manicured fingernails making clicks as they tapped away swiftly at the keys. It was a Monday afternoon, the week after the whole "incident" and misunderstanding. As he messed around with the still unread book for English in his hands, he dwelled on the events of the week prior.

At first, he had been really quite angry at Santana for refusing to even _listen_ to him- not to mention the fact that she had gone behind his back when she was suspicious, instead of merely confronting him first. Mostly he had been disappointed in her. But though he was frustrated at her actions, he knew the reasoning behind them. He knew how her mind worked. That she had been scared, hurt, confused. It had been so easy to forgive her. Sam suspected that throughout the course of their relationship, he'd find it hard not to forgive Santana pretty quickly. It's not like in this case he wasn't at all in the wrong, anyway.

She swiveled around in her rolling chair then, black locks swishing slightly; Sam turned his head on her bedspread to level his gaze with hers.

"So," she spoke suddenly, looking contemplative. "Prom's coming. And since we're basically the hottest couple at our school, it's pretty much a given that we go."

"Oh, that's right…" Sam trailed off, all of a sudden worried. Of course Santana would want to go to prom: but how was he to pay for any of its expenses, like a boyfriend is expected to?

Santana seemed to sense his concern, because she hastily added, "Well, we don't really _have _to go. I'm sort of whatever about it."

"I want to." Sam sat up, hands resting on the edge of her bed. "But obviously I can't really afford it…"

"How about we split the ticket and dinner prices, and you borrow a tux from your dad or something? I don't care if you rent it. And I don't care about fancy transportation."

He mulled this over for a few seconds, nodding to himself, before replying, "Yeah, that could work." He grinned. "Looks like I'm your prom date, Lopez."

"Well, you could have come up with a better way to ask me, Evans, considering you _didn't_, and_ I'm _the one who brought the whole thing up," Santana remarked, smirking, playful edge to her voice. "Guess you're not really that good of boyfriend material after all. I really should find someone else to take me."

"Oh, really?" Sam raised his eyebrows and got up from the bed and approached her, putting his hands on both armrests of the computer chair. "So I guess if I'm not good boyfriend material, you don't like it when I do this?" He leaned into Santana, her eyes already closed and mouth parted in anticipation, and he pressed his lips full against hers, both breathing into the kiss, giving into one another's cadence. His hand were still propping himself up on the arms of the chair, but Santana had eagerly brought hers to his neck, running them down his shoulders and then his chest, gripping his shirt as if to keep him right where he was. Finally Sam pulled away, unable to keep the self-satisfaction off his face when he saw that her eyes were still closed, her brow was furrowed, and her breathing was heavier. She opened her eyes.

"Meh," she said with fake nonchalance, shrugging. They both laughed.

* * *

It was not hard to find the old tux, as his father helped him and it was just stored away in one of the cardboard boxes scattering their tiny condominium, packed with their things that they hadn't sold. Sam took it out of the unfolded box, shaking it a little to get some of the dust off.

"So, how's your relationship with this Santana girl going?" his dad asked, giving the same enthusiastic interest as he always did.

Sam smiled. "It's good." He paused. "It can get a little hard sometimes, and confusing… I mean, she can be mean, and angry, and sort of cruel to people. And, okay, she kind of excels in plotting revenge." Sam's father raised an eyebrow, confused. "But at the end of the day, she's just so much more than what she appears to be. She's…" He paused, unable to find the right words to describe the beautiful but constant mystery that was Santana Lopez. "Santana is amazing. She's stunning, talented, smart, complex… and way more sensitive than she lets on." Sam shrugged, shaking his head unconsciously. "I don't know, I just really _like_ her."

His father chuckled a bit. "I can tell," he said. Sam felt his face heat up; he had really just been planning to leave it at _"it's good"_.

They re-packed the boxes they'd been searching through and put them back in the corner. As he hung up the tux on a hanger, Sam realized he was really looking forward to prom, and with everything that had happened with their lost home, he hadn't been looking forward to much in a while.

* * *

There wasn't too much to plan, really. They both didn't seem to mind- or, at least Sam didn't- what they did as long as they were with each other. It was decided to go to Breadstix (Santana's insistence- as she once mentioned, they were legally _unable_ to stop serving you free breadsticks- and besides that, it was cheap) with Brittany and Artie, and Quinn and Finn. Since Santana and Quinn seemed to be mending their friendship, and Sam was on better terms as well with both the ex-blonde cheerleader and her boyfriend, they figured they might as well go in a group with them.

Prom day came quickly. The night of, the moon hung high and bright and full in the dark sky, becoming lost now and then behind wisps of clouds. Sam turned off the ignition of his old car and sat there for a second, fingering the cuffs of his father's worn tux and the corsage box in his right hand. He took a deep breath and got out of the car, striding up to the front door of the Lopez household. After ringing the doorbell, he smoothed his hair and shifted his weight uncomfortably. He really had no idea why he was nervous.

When Santana's mother opened the door, Sam smiled; but his expression faded when instead of saying hello, she merely flicked her eyes over him wordlessly in a disapproving sort of way, and opened the door farther to let him in. "Come in," she said finally, stepping aside.

He immediately gathered that Santana had probably fought with her mother not that much earlier in the day, and he felt a twinge of annoyance that her mother was acting this way on the day of what was supposed to be a _pleasant _experience for a teenage girl. Granted, he certainly didn't know the whole story, he was biased because he heard Santana talk about her from time to time- and even then, she refrained from going into detail, as she was not exactly open and personal to begin with. Santana's father walked in then, and gave Sam a welcoming grin, saying Santana was sure to be ready soon.

Glancing around the foyer, he noticed a family portrait centered in a frame on the wall. It looked as if it was taken on a family vacation, because they were somewhere unrecognizable, and a passerby probably taken the photo for them. Santana was probably only twelve or so in the photo, and she looked so happy. Childlike. Her parents looked cheerful, too, even her _mother_. Somewhere along the line, their family dynamic had altered.

"Hey." A familiar voice was heard from behind; Sam turned around.

His girlfriend stood near the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing, dressed in an astonishingly tight, well-fitted red dress, with flower-like detailing elegantly crossing over one shoulder. Her waterfall of ebony hair was straightened and partially tied back, falling over her shoulders. She was beaming- she looked _radiant_. Sam found it hard all of a sudden to form coherent thoughts. He realized that his mouth was slightly agape and closed it hurriedly, and also that he hadn't responded yet. "I, um, you look…" Sam sputtered unintelligibly, and decided on just saying, "...Hey."

Santana smirked and shook her head a little as she descended the stairs, the way she did when she was inwardly laughing at him.

"I've got my camera!" Santana's dad exclaimed, sounding excited, instigating an eye-roll from his daughter. Sam couldn't help but think her father reminded him a bit of his own, what with his enthusiasm.

The two of them posed by the door in the standard fashion and put the corsage and boutonniere onto each other, the clicking of the camera the only noise filling the wide entrance hall. Mr. Lopez worked the camera, while his wife stood by, arms crossed, observing. Finally, when the photo taking had finished, Santana's mother walked up to her and Sam stepped aside a little.

"You look beautiful, San," she said quietly, cupping one side of Santana's face in her hand.

Santana looked confused and almost a bit _angry_ before giving a somewhat stiff smile and replying, "Thanks, Mom." She turned to her father. "You got enough photos, so we're going."

Her mother gave an audible sigh. Her father nodded with satisfaction, oblivious to any tension, and opened the door wide for them to step through.

After saying goodbye and getting into the run-down car parked by the Lopez driveway, Santana said nothing.

"You okay?" Sam asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah, yeah," Santana replied dismissively. He knew better, but he didn't want to press the issue; he just wanted to get her mind off of anything stressful.

* * *

Breadstix was crowded. It was if the entire student body of McKinley High didn't know where else to go to eat before Prom. Sam and Santana sat side by side in the booth, with Brittany and Artie next to them, and Quinn and Finn across. Truthfully, Sam had anticipated all of this to be a bit awkward, considering the six of them didn't exactly hang out as a group (in fact, they never had, aside from anything related to glee), and while Brittany and Santana were obviously the best of friends, she and Quinn were still on a tentative road to getting back to their old friendship. Furthermore, Sam had never really fully forgiven Finn in the first place. Artie… well, he wasn't really involved in any drama.

But thankfully, as the evening progressed and dinner was ordered, the feeling of heaviness slowly gave way to ease, and the group started to develop a rhythm of sorts in their conversation. Sam noted with relief that Santana had begun to loosen up from her day's experiences in the company of friends. Every time she laughed, he found himself laughing with her. His eyes lingered on her; it was hard to look away.

* * *

When they arrived at the dance, Santana stopped walked behind the group, and Sam followed suit and turned around.

She was standing there, staring up at the school building looming in front of them.

"Did it work?" she asked.

"What?" Sam was completely perplexed.

"When I used Finn, did it work to make you jealous?"

He looked to her, wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden. "I knew something was up from the way you were acting, but yeah, I was. Mostly I was just angry and...confused. Santana, why did you bring this up randomly?"

Santana shrugged. "I don't know, I just still feel bad about it, I guess. I kind of thought I had gotten past that. Using people. Manipulating. I think…" She took a shaky breath. "I think I get that from my mom. All the bad parts of my personality." Santana looked to the side, eyes cast downward. Sam immediately felt worried- what sort of confrontation had his girlfriend and her mother _had_ earlier that day, anyway? Had Santana's mother just harped on her about her flaws? Everyone made mistakes. Sometimes acting irrationally was human nature. It was true he didn't know what happened earlier that day, but Sam felt a rush of frustration at the fact that Santana's mother was making her feel down on the night of prom, of all nights.

"Listen," Sam said, walking closer to her, studying her face. "I forgave you for all that- okay? I'm not thinking about it, and I don't want you to think about it, either. I just want you to have fun tonight." Santana met his eyes finally, and gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Okay."

He took her hand in his (he _loved_ the warm feeling he got whenever he did that) and they walked inside together, finding their group.

* * *

The dancing part of the evening passed rather quickly. The Glee Club had been assigned times to do various songs, and to Sam's amusement, he was assigned to cover the wonderful song "Friday" by Rebecca Black with Puck, along with Artie as the rapper. He found himself watching Santana at times while singing, and had to surpass a guffaw because she was pretending to be really into the song, doing ridiculous dance moves with Brittany and Quinn. She caught his eye and started laughing; his heart swelled at the sight.

The pair of them danced both fast songs and slow songs. During the slow numbers, they were a little distanced at first; but Sam gradually pulled Santana closer to him until her head was buried in his neck. He felt her sigh deeply in contentment, both swaying to the slow music. His heart beat faster at their proximity. Santana lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked him in the eyes. She looked almost _radiant_. His breath caught in his throat.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked yet?" Sam asked. Because god, she looked beautiful.

Santana's face noticeably reddened, but she smirked and retorted, "I think you left that out. Still not proving yourself as good boyfriend material, Blondie."

"Hey, that's a new one," Sam remarked, amused. "Have we taken a step up from 'Guppy Face' and 'Trouty Mouth', now?"

"Well, I suppose you deserve that much," Santana said, looking mock-thoughtful. "I'm afraid you'll have to work much harder if you want me to call you 'Sam' all the time though." She shrugged, and added teasingly, "A girl that looks like _this_-"-she gestured to her body suggestively- "-needs way better of a suitor. I'm just not feeling your efforts here."

"How about my efforts in dancing?" Sam asked, and dipped her low. She gave a half-shriek, and as they came up, she was giggling.

"A plus," she laughed.

* * *

Later, surprisingly (and yet, well, not so surprisingly), there was drama: Finn had gotten kicked out of prom for punching Jesse for apparently getting "too close" to Rachel. Sam and Santana had shared a glance of sympathy for Quinn, who stood there looking distressed and outright anguished at losing her prom king candidate: but Sam mostly felt bad for Rachel, who looked angry and absolutely mortified at her ex-boyfriend's uncalled for behavior.

Nevertheless, the night went on, and Sam expected that to be the height of the dance's excitement. But then the announcement of prom queen came. When it was to be announced, Sam and Santana watched from the crowd; the entire gym was buzzing with anticipation.

The crowned prom king ended up being Karofsky. He had run with some cheerio in order to further boost his popularity. Sam studied Quinn's expression; she looked cool and collected, like she couldn't imagine anything but the queen's title going to her. And then it was announced.

The room went eerily silent. Any sort of whispering ceased. Apparently the majority of the voting student body had issued a write-in on the ballot: and it was Kurt. Sam looked around the gym; Santana was anxiously searching too, and they both watched as Kurt ran out of the gymnasium, humiliated. Blaine followed close behind.

"What the hell," Santana whispered.

"I know," Sam said disbelievingly.

The hoard of students once more became abuzz with gossip about this strange (and for some, predictable) turn of events. Quinn stormed off the stage in a blind fury, and Sam watched, intrigued, as Rachel followed after her towards the restrooms.

To Sam's relief, Kurt returned not too long after, Blaine by his side, and once he had gotten shakily up on the stage, he turned it into something a little lighter by saying "Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton" when taking the crown. The crowd clapped at that.

After Karofsky refused the king and queen's first dance, the craziness of the night, thankfully, began to wear down. Kurt was seen slow dancing with Blaine. Quinn, looking teary eyed, was talking to Rachel by the punch bowl. And Brittany and Artie were looking like they were having a good time dancing. Sam grabbed Santana's hand and started leading her towards the gym doors.

"Where are we going?" she asked, sounding confused.

"I saw that the prom committee set up this thing outside where you can get away from the dancing," he replied, pushing open the door with his free hand.

The refreshing chill of the night air hit him full force upon walking out. All clouds in the sky had cleared, and the surroundings as a result were lit by the brightness of the full moon. The prom committee had strung white string lights to the trees surrounding the edge of the school walkway. Santana's hand still in his, they began to walk down the path under the glow of the tiny bulbs.

"Well, that was… eventful," Santana said, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Peace doesn't seem to last long at this school. I really can't believe people would do that to Kurt…"

"At least he twisted it around to his advantage," Santana shrugged. "Sort of. Show that the fucking morons at this school that they can't get him down." She stopped talking and stared off into the distance, looking lost in thought. Her countenance looked considerably less content than before. Sam desperately wanted to know what she was thinking, but he didn't press her. If tension at home ever got too bad, she would come to him.

It was true that the evening had been hectic, but Sam had mostly just felt like a bystander through the majority of it. Watching Finn go berserk, watching Rachel look infuriated, watching Quinn look heartbroken, watching Kurt look devastated, watching Kurt look defiant. Watching Santana look hurt. Happy, too, but the hurt part was what he couldn't stop thinking about.

He didn't want to be a bystander in her life. So he gave Santana's hand a squeeze, as if to say, "_I'm here_", and she looked over at him and smiled.

There was the smile he loved.

* * *

**A/N: I meant to make this chapter somewhat short as to finish it quicker, but I can't seem to let myself write short chapters anymore. xD I'm sort of ehh about this chapter. ): I hope you guys like it! I made up that there was a nice area outside 'cause I could. And I like string lights. (There were so many string lights at my prom). And yes, I added a glimpse of Faberry friendship, also 'cause I can.**

**In this story, Santana resents her mother, but she also resents her father because he's oblivious and doesn't stand up to her mother most of the time.**

**I meant for there to be more fluff than there was. ): Also it was hard to think of this chapter's title... yeah... I don't even know.**

**Feel free to give me suggestions and thoughts; reviews inspire me to keep writing.**


	17. Birthday Surprises Other Surprises Too

**A/N: This is the longest you have ever had to wait for an update (4 weeks), and I am really sorry about that. I was in Europe for half the time- which was fun!- and then the week I came home, I didn't write much. It's hard to get back in the flow of writing.**

**Unfortunately, last chapter, I seemed to update on a day when the review feature didn't work, so I barely got to hear _any_ of your responses (I really don't know what you thought). So it would mean a lot if you review this chapter, especially since I've been gone so long.**

** I hope you enjoy this one; I meant it to be shorter and I just kept writing!**

* * *

Since Santana found out about Sam's home situation, Quinn had stopped helping Sam babysit his younger siblings. This was most likely because due to the fact his siblings seemed to actually take a liking to Santana (primarily Stacey), so she had been given this role instead. Which she couldn't really complain about- as long as Fabray stayed out of range of Sam, Santana was content.

This particular afternoon, somehow Stacey had managed to rope Santana into going grocery shopping with her.

It was after Santana had gone to Sam's apartment with him to check on his siblings. Finding only Stacey sitting on the bed, watching TV, Sam murmured, "Shit."

"What?" Santana asked.

"I forgot I was supposed to pick up Stevie from his soccer practice and it ends in like, ten minutes."

"Oh, well, whatever. Go quickly, then. I'll wait here."

"Hey!" A girly shriek pierced over the noise from the TV. Sam and Santana both looked to the source. "You promised me we'd go grocery shopping today!" Stacey was now standing, her hands placed defiantly on her hips.

Santana stifled a laugh. "Why does she care if you go grocery shopping?"

Sam rolled his eyes; he'd obviously dealt with this before. "She really likes the grocery store." Turning to his pouting sibling, he said, "Stace, I have to go pick up your brother. We don't even need other groceries right now."

"Santana can take me!"

A hurried glance was shared between the couple. Sam's brow was furrowed and he seemed to be saying "_You really don't have to do this_" with his eyes. Santana thought her initial reaction should've been absolute distaste at the very thought of spending time with an insolent little kid. But to her surprise, she actually _wanted_ to do this. If she was to be honest with herself, Santana yearned to make a good impression on Sam's little siblings. To show she could be just as motherly or whatever as Quinn. (Okay, so maybe she couldn't, but she could at least get his family to like her more- partially for spite, partially because she really wanted them to).

She half-shrugged. "Um… I guess I could go."

Sam turned to Stacey. "Yeah, see, Santana doesn't want to… wait, what?" He looked to Santana doubtfully. "You do?" Was it that unbelievable? God, she was just doing something _nice. _She could be nice.

"_Yes_, Sam, I do," Santana stated. "Now go pick up your brother, and me and Stacey are about to get our grocery shopping on."

* * *

So maybe this wasn't the smartest idea. Five minutes into the supermarket, and Stacey was hyperactively throwing things into the cart. Literally, _throwing_.

"Oh, I have to get 'Chocolate Sugar Puff Cocoa Bombs'!" Stacey squealed in excitement, grabbing the cartoon-y looking cereal box and shoving it in the cart.

"Pretty sure you've had enough sugar already," Santana muttered. "Um, okay, look, Stacey," she said louder in what she hoped was an authoritative tone, "I may have the money your parents gave you guys for the grocery shopping today, but it is _not_ enough to buy the whole freaking store. I think we're going to have to be a little thrifty here."

Stacey's eyes immediately went downcast, and her bright smile vanished. "I know," she said, taking the 'Cocoa Bombs' out of the cart and placing it back onto the shelf.

Fuck. Santana really didn't know how to deal with kids. She didn't know how to deal with crazy, annoying kids, and she didn't know how to deal with sad ones either. She didn't even _like_ kids. But she would make an exception for Sam's sake. And seeing his little sister's crestfallen expression, she couldn't help feel down herself, thinking about their family's money situation.

Santana grabbed the cereal box from the shelf and put it back into the cart. "I guess one box of cereal can't hurt," she said with a small smile. Stacey beamed, and Santana felt her heart melt a little. Why was it that she found it impossible to not go soft for an Evans?

As they began walking down the next aisle, Santana checking the Evans kids' mother's grocery list given to her by Sam, Stacey began enthusiastically chattering again.

"Well, that cereal is my absolute _favorite _and it's really good but we don't get to have it anymore. Stevie always stole it anyways. I think I'll hide the box this time. But at least we could get a cake for Sam last week."

"What? Why'd you get a cake for Sam?" Santana asked absentmindedly, trying to figure out where to find the canned green beans.

"Everyone gets a cake on their birthday, silly!" Stacey said matter-of-factly.

"I- wait, what?" Santana stopped pushing the cart and the little girl bumped into her from behind.

"Ow!"

"Ugh- sorry, but _what_? It was Sam's birthday last week?"

"Yeah, didn't you know? You're his _girlfriend_! It's your job to know!" Stacey crossed her arms and looked up at Santana with disbelief.

"I…" Santana felt her mouth go dry. His birthday had passed and he hadn't said anything? Did anyone even know at school? Shit. Shit. Shit. She felt awful. She was his girlfriend. Girlfriends were supposed to do… well, fuck, she didn't know, it's not like she'd had experience being a proper one. But they were supposed to do _girlfriend-y_ stuff for their boyfriends on their birthdays, right? Make them feel good? In all honesty, when it came to her own birthday, she didn't mind much; birthdays were never too big of a deal in her household. (Though, knowing Sam, he'd probably make hers a big deal, being the sap he was).

"Well, looks like you'll have to make it up to him, now," Stacey said, shaking her head in pity, as she started walking down the aisle. Santana followed wordlessly, stunned. "I mean, it _is_ a pretty important day, after all. The most important day of your life, year after year… I'd be heartbroken if someone missed mine. But…" She turned around and mock-shrugged, rolling her eyes in disappointment. "Oh _well_, right?"

"Fu- I mean," Santana closed her eyes momentarily, forgetting she was in the presence of a seven (or was it eight?) year old, "_Darn_. I guess I have to get him something… why didn't he tell me, though?"

Stacey's face morphed from pseudo sympathy to excitement. "You should let _me_ help!"

"Oh, please, I am not doing that. I don't need some kid to help me get something for my boyfriend. Also, you're kind of annoying as hell. No offense."

"And I'm his _sister_. Can't get closer than that. I know him. I'm just saying. And none taken." Stacey grinned as if Santana's last comment had been a compliment.

Geez, how old was this kid again? Where did she learn to manipulate? And Santana was the queen of manipulation. "Well, I don't know yet. I'll ask his friends at school first." Santana already felt she wasn't that good at being a good girlfriend in the first place. Now she felt even more like a failure.

* * *

Santana walked briskly and with certainty over to the one source of information she hoped would help this awful situation she found herself in.

"Listen up, Asian."

Mike looked up from the book lying open on his desk quickly, startled by her raspy, feminine voice. His eyebrows shot up. "Uh… I _do_ have a name…" Class had yet to start, and not all of the students had arrived yet. There was a fifteen minute break, as it was the time before second period.

"Yeah, whatever, that doesn't matter right now," Santana said impatiently, waving her hand to brush the fact off. "I need your help."

"For… what?" Mike was talking slowly and cautiously, like he was afraid she'd _bite_ him or something.

Santana sighed. "Apparently it was Sam's birthday last week, and he didn't fucking tell me. So you're going to help me think of something to get him. I mean… you're nerdy, like him, so you know his tastes, right?" She added this last part with a shrug of her shoulder, to let him know that she didn't actually mean that in a bad way; she really was trying to work on her blunt approach in speaking. It was just so hard. And why should she beat around the bush about stuff like that? Mike and Sam _were_ freakishly nerdy. (Secretly, Santana kind of adored that part of her boyfriend- not that she'd let him know).

"Oh, yeah, it was his birthday last week- wait, you didn't know that already?" Mike looked surprised.

"No, Chang, how was I _supposed_ to know if he didn't tell me!" Santana snapped. She softened her voice, shutting her eyes out of aggravation. "Look, just tell me what sort of dorky shit he would like."

Mike tapped his fingers on the wood of the school desk thoughtfully. "How about a collection of Star Trek DVDs?"

"He has those."

"Star _Wars_?"

"Owns."

"Well, video games then- Halo, Call of Duty: World at War, Modern Warfare 1 and 2."

"I'm pretty sure he has all of this, I've had the unfortunate experience of seeing him play them," Santana said, "and I know for a fact he hasn't sold this stuff 'cause it's sitting in a box in their apartment." A thought occurred to her. "And I don't even think he can use it anymore because they sold their game system, so I guess getting new games wouldn't be useful…" She moved to Mike's left and took a seat in the open desk beside him.

Some random short brown haired kid who Santana thought once knew his name but couldn't care enough to remember approached the desk and said, "Hey, that's my seat-"

"Can you not see I'm _busy_?" Santana snarled and shot him her signature menacing glare, causing him to shrink away to another part of the classroom. She heaved a sigh and rested her forehead on her hand, her other hand's manicured fingernails raking through the layers in her hair.

She felt Mike's eyes studying her. "You really want to do something for him, huh?"

"No shit, Sherlock," Santana muttered, eyes shut tight.

"Look, I think the very fact that you're even _acknowledging _his birthday says you care," Mike explained.

"But I have to get him something," Santana moaned. "I mean, god, everything his family has been through recently… I just want to make it better…" She opened her eyes and glanced at the boy next to her. He was grinning in an infuriating way as if he knew something she didn't. "_What?_"

"Nothing," Mike assured her hastily, raising his hands in defense, still grinning. Santana sat up and crossed her arms, sighing again in aggravation. She felt like such a bitch for missing Sam's birthday completely and now she didn't even know how to make up for it. Okay, well, she was always a bitch. But she felt like _more_ of one because of this.

* * *

Santana was really questioning her sanity.

"I am very glad you came to _me_, because I have to live with this guy, after all!" The pipsqueak currently walking to her right was giving off an air of overwhelming self-satisfaction.

"Yes, whatever, Stacey, but I don't see how we're going to find anything for your older brother in a _toy store_."

Almost immediately after Santana and her boyfriend's impossible younger sister walked into the mall that afternoon after school (Sam thought she was just taking her there as a favor to him), she had gone straight into the "Toy Emporium". She had reluctantly followed the little girl- because she couldn't just leave her to search for something by herself.

The store was completely overrun with insane children. Santana stepped hurriedly out of the way of a noisy little boy running with a toy airplane making ridiculous whooshing noises- he looked almost guaranteed to break it.

"Fine," huffed Stacey. They made their way out of the store and started walking amongst the crowds in the only shopping mall in Lima.

Despite Stacey's later protests to go into other stores targeted to children saying there was _surely_ something they could find in there for Sam, Santana managed to hold her off. However, though she was successful in avoiding these shops, they didn't actually find much she thought Sam would like in the first place. Somehow, she made the next hour walking around in the mall completely useless because she bought absolutely nothing.

"You know," Stacey said thoughtfully as they walked out of GAP. "Maybe you should just tell him how you feel about all of this, and that you're sorry you missed his birthday. I bet he didn't expect anything anyways and he'll get all excited."

_Tell him how you feel about all of this_. Santana almost chuckled at the irony of the words coming from someone so much younger: she was not exactly the best at telling anyone how she felt (well, aside from insulting them).

By the end of their trip, Santana had finally bought something. And it was a sweater. How lame was that? A sweater? At least it was a good quality one.

(It was so hard to _do_ things for other people and Santana simply wasn't used to it).

* * *

Light rain pattered the shelter covering the porch of Santana's house, and as she and Sam made their way in, closing the door, she turned to him.

"I have something for you," Santana said, biting her lip in anxiety and then inwardly cursing because she hated her anxious habits that creeped up on her around Sam. They made her look weak. And she wasn't weak.

Sam raised an eyebrow, amused. "Um, okay."

"Wait here."

She jogged lightly up the stairs to retrieve the bag in her bedroom (she decided not to wrap it), and walked quickly back down.

"What is this?" Sam asked, looking from the bag to her as he took it in his hands.

"A, uh… present," Santana said simply, avoiding his eyes. "You never told me it was your birthday last week, moron. So I got you something. It's just a stupid sweater though," she added quickly, as Sam took it out of the white bag. "Figured it's at least something useful. I went shopping with your sister… She's really something." She laughed a little at the memory, and then looked nervously from the sweater to Sam. "Do you like it or what?"

The smile that spread over Sam's face shot Santana through the heart like a bullet train. A wonderful, _amazing_ bullet train that made her heart feel like it would explode and her skin to feel like it'd never stop tingling. "It's great," Sam said honestly.

Seeing him look so happy filled Santana with such happiness that she never wanted to let it go again. Seeing his eyes look so bright made her want to somehow make them look that way every day.

All of a sudden, for the first time, three words were on the tip of her tongue and she couldn't believe that they had found their way there. The three hardest words to speak in the English language when combined in a single sentence. Three sweet, beautiful words that enveloped her so fully and completely it was as if she was meant to _feel_ them. Every pore in her body seethed with the feeling and it took her entirely by surprise; the blush on her cheeks deepened, the heat on her skin intensified, and the racing of her heart quickened even more. She felt light, wonderful, free.

And there they were, those words, on the tip of her tongue and in every part of her mind, beckoning her, inviting her.

Without thinking, her lips parted. "I…"

No, she couldn't. She found herself unable.

She pushed it down, just like she always did. She pushed it down because it was too scary and too soon and it was way, way too vulnerable. But something in Sam's eyes, something in the way he was watching her, made Santana feel as if he _knew_. As if he knew what would words almost escaped her lips; as if he could feel what she was feeling: a warmth that spread all the way down to the tips of her toes. If he did know, he said nothing. That was the thing with Sam. He was really intuitive when it came to her. He got her, understood her. Even if he didn't realize it.

Her heart was still beating erratically and when she stepped towards him cautiously (it was funny, you'd think she would be forceful and rough with her boyfriend, but everything was so _new_ and different and scary when you cared about the person this much), placing her hands around his neck and her head against his chest, she heard his heartbeat too, beating at nearly the same rate. His larger, rough hand found its way gently to the back of Santana's head (the other still clutched the sweater), cradling her, protecting her. Then, his left hand still combing through her hair, he shifted and so did she; their mouths found each other. There was nothing strong or forceful about it. On the contrary, it was the sweetest kiss Santana had ever experienced. Passionate, but gentle and _telling_. She tried to somehow pour all of her feelings into that kiss, all of which she found she couldn't say. His response was equally as fervent.

Finally it broke. Santana found herself short of breath and felt her face and ears turning increasingly red. Not because of the kiss.

But because of what she might have _said_ just then.

All of a sudden, Sam's hand was cupping her face, bringing her eyes to his. He was smiling.

"Thanks," he said, his voice low and earnest; her heart skipped a beat.

_For what? For giving you that present? For kissing you? For loving you?_

_Fuck. _Santana fought off the urge to shake her head at the thought- she did _not_ want to think about loving anyone yet. She didn't care what her feelings might be saying. She cared what her rational mind said and it was too soon. It was too soon to even _think_ about feeling that way.

And- and she didn't. Feel that way, anyway. She just liked him a lot. That was all it was. Her irrational mind was just getting the better of her.

Santana ignored the annoying voice inside her head telling her she was in denial. And as Sam's lips captured hers in another kiss- she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of bliss- Santana decided confusion about her thoughts and feelings would just have to wait a little while.

* * *

**A/N: She looooves him. It was so fun writing that part. I almost wanted to make her say it, but she can't yet. (Besides, I adore a Santana in denial). A few things: Apparently Stacey is spelled "Stacy" on the show and Stevie is supposed to be older than her, but I've changed those without meaning to and it doesn't matter; also, Mike knew about Sam's birthday 'cause he can. And I do need to expand on Santana's family storyline, especially with her mother, but there wasn't really room in this chapter for it to work.**

**Please, please review and tell me what you think and let me know you're still with me and I'll be eternally grateful, because I really need feedback! :D And tell me what you'd like to see? (Funeral will most likely be next?)**


	18. Family Dinner Pt I

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long, guys! ): I hope you like this one.**

* * *

The event of death quite often happened to put ones' lives in perspective.

For life was full of hardships and trials, but there was always the fact that you were still living. There was always life, at least. And there was nothing to do but to keep moving on.

Sam shifted, uncomfortable on the hard wood of the bench. Next to him, Santana tugged on the hem of her tight black dress. He sat to her left, also all in black, his right hand gripping hers, as to make sure she was okay and still there with him.

He had only been to one funeral before in his whole life. His grandfather's. He couldn't remember much of it because he'd only been four or five at the time; in fact, Sam didn't really remember his grandfather, except perhaps his warm smile and fine white hair and shaking hands.

Sam didn't remember if he cried. He didn't think he did. But it was so long ago and he had been little, after all. He supposed, perhaps, he hadn't really understood death at that age.

He was still uncertain about why the Glee Club has planned the funeral in the first place (he supposed it was because Kurt and Finn had offered and Sue wanted people actually _at_ the service).

When they got up began their song in tribute to the late Jean ("Pure Imagination"), he was grateful they had. Never before had Sam seen such a moved expression on Sue Sylvester's normally hardened and mocking face.

Once the service ended, everyone began to file out. Sam led Santana to his old car, looking up at the graying sky with detached interest. It looked like it would rain soon. He was filled with a dull sensation. Secondhand sadness. Empathy. Glancing behind him, he saw Santana was wordless.

When they got in the car, he paused before turning on the ignition.

"You okay?" How often did he say that to her? Sam heard the involuntary worry tinged in his voice.

Santana did that to him. She made him worry.

The girl beside him tugged on the hem of her dress again, and his eyes went from her face to her hands. She looked almost like she was trembling.

"_Santana_," he pushed.

"I'm fine," she finally answered, her voice sounding thin and not really all that fine. "I guess it's just… I don't know. I've never been to a funeral before."

After that, they drove in silence. He dropped her off, and as she climbed out of the car, her curled black hair hiding her face and her hands gripping the door, something in him wanted to reach out, to take her hand, to make her stay.

But he didn't.

* * *

Sam kept noticing subtle changes in Santana the next day. Her demeanor was dulled, she rarely spoke, and she seemed distant. He assumed it was only because she was sad for Sue Sylvester. It was not until they had reached her house after school that she said anything about her behavior.

Her hand was positioned on the doorknob, long nails clicking on the brass. "I've been thinking."

Sam took an automatic breath. His first thought was that she must be breaking up with him. His second was that this was completely irrational, he _knew_ Santana was just experiencing the aftermath of emotions from a funeral. He couldn't even fathom why this would be the first thing to cross his mind; their relationship had been only growing stronger. Therefore, he immediately felt a intertwined rush of anger at himself and anxiety for the words to come.

"I..." Santana sighed. "Obviously I was just _sad_ yesterday. Sad for Ms. Sylvester. Sad for Jean. But I guess that going to a funeral just made me think about… things. Things about my family. How we're not close anymore. How I'm afraid…" Her voice choked and she turned her head away from him. Sam's feelings of dread immediately turned to tender concern. He took her hand gently and she faced him, but her eyes were glued to the ground. "How I'm afraid that something will _happen_- and it will be too late to fix everything. I want my _old_ parents back- the ones who cared." Her voice was wavering; it broke his heart to hear how vulnerable to the fear of being unloved Santana's parents had made her.

"Your parents care," Sam said firmly. "They just seem to not know how to show it anymore."

Santana's gaze met his; her eyes were deep, dark brown pools of sadness mixed with unease. Her expression was frightened, like a child who needed to be comforted. She looked like she didn't believe him yet desperately wanted to.

"Yeah," Santana said. "Yeah," she echoed again, nodding her head, trying to convince herself. She started to go inside, her right hand twisting the doorknob, but Sam, his hand still intertwined with her left, pulled her back.

Turning into him, Santana looked up, startled. He put his arms around her waist and brought his head down to hers, allowing their lips to meet gently. Once she responded, the kiss deepened, their mouths opened, and she turned fully to face him, bringing her arms up over his neck.

"Mm," she breathed, breaking the kiss, her eyes searching his. They were still slightly sad, but not distant any longer. Her lips curled into a small, thankful smile. "Do you want to come in for a while?"

* * *

Every time Sam walked into Santana's house, he thought it could look a little warmer. A little friendlier. A little more like a _home_. There was no clutter anywhere; it was perfectly clean- but it was also perfectly calculated, perfectly rigid, with no friendliness. For this reason, he was always relieved when he walked into Santana's room. It held a different atmosphere than the rest of the house. It was comfortable and had memorabilia and things from her past.

Santana was wandering the room, hands grazing over the various items on her dresser, picking up books on her nightstand and mindlessly leafing through them.

"You…" she started suddenly, sounding unsure. Santana turned around. "Do you remember when I got… well." She gestured vaguely to her chest. "_Work_ done? I'm sure Quinn told you at one point."

Sam felt himself color slightly. "Uh, yeah, I knew about that."

"Well, last summer I wasn't feeling at my highest… I felt like I needed to be more popular, for people to notice me. To notice me over Quinn. But I remember…" Santana took a breath, sitting down on the bed, hand gripping the blue comforter and then letting go, over and over. Sam walked over and joined her. Again, he took her hand, keeping her from bunching up the soft fabric. "I remember asking my parents. I remember wanting desperately for them to say no. For them to _care_ what I was going to do to my body. At first my mom seemed sort of angry, I guess, maybe disappointed. But then she was just dismissive and consented so easily that I sort of forgot the reason why I wanted the implants in the first place. I think she said something like, 'well, you've disappointed us enough already'. My dad didn't give a fuck, not wanting to start anything." She sighed. "Thinking back, maybe I just wanted my parents to say no."

Silence filled the room for a moment. Sam sat quietly on the bed, staring at the armoire by the window. It was slightly open, and a wind broke through the screen, ruffling the sheer curtains and causing Santana to shiver beside him.

"When was the last time your parents and you ate dinner together?" Sam asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Santana shot him a quizzical look. "I don't know," she said. "Not in a long while. They work pretty late on the weekdays."

"Well, I know it's not typical to ask _yourself_ to dinner," he explained slowly, "but what if I did? It'd bring your family together- and that's something that hasn't happened in a long time."

"That sounds like a total disaster," Santana stated flatly. Then, after a pause, "But I guess we could try it."

Sam shot her a triumphant half smile. To be honest, he was pretty wary about spending too much time with her parents (or more specifically, her mother) but he wanted her to see she still had a family.

* * *

"My aunt's in town."

"What?" Sam scrunched his brow in confusion at this sudden declaration from his girlfriend, the door to his car open and his body half inside. It was the day of the dinner. Santana, he'd found out, had end up telling her parents that he was coming over that Saturday. _Telling_, not asking. Apparently her mother had not been that pleased. He slid all the way in the car and onto the old leather. "Your aunt?" he asked again.

"Yeah, she's coming for dinner too," Santana replied, sounding suspiciously nonchalant and almost like she was… planning something? "My aunt on my mom's side always does this: drops in out of nowhere. And my mom _hates_ her." Sam could practically see the smirk on her face.

"Look, Santana, I don't want this to turn into some mission to make your mom mad-"

"It's _not_!" she protested hotly. "Now get over here, Lips, or I will fucking go Lima Heights on your ass later!"

Sam sighed, rolled his eyes, and ended the call, assuming the extra bit of malice was out of nerves.

He arrived before Santana's aunt, but only by about ten minutes. The instant the front door to the Lopez house opened a second time, a voluptuous, heavily made-up woman with black hair loose to her shoulders burst in and wrapped Santana in a crushing hug. Sam assumed she was probably in her thirties. "_Hey_, San!"

"Hey, Veronica!" Santana replied, her voice muffled. Pushing herself away, she said more clearly, "this is my boyfriend, Sam. Sam, this is my Aunt Veronica."

"Um, nice to meet you," Sam said, holding his hand out hesitantly.

Veronica took his hand eagerly, giving him a brilliant smile. He noticed her fingernails were long and painted red. Santana's mother walked into the foyer just then, arms crossed. Her fingernails were of the opposite appearance: short and not painted at all. Vaguely, Sam wondered if that was just foreshadowing for how different the two ladies would prove to be.

"Hello, Veronica," Mrs. Lopez said stiffly.

"Hey, sis," Veronica grinned, raising an eyebrow, and all of a sudden, Sam knew where Santana got some of her expressions from. Santana was eyeing her mother and her aunt, a devilish look on her face.

This was looking to be a long evening.

* * *

**A/N: It was rather short because I just wanted to give you an update as quickly as possible. This chapter's story will continue through to next chapter, which is the first time I've done that, since the perspectives change. So that'll be interesting.**

**I realized recently, I was planning on continuing this story through season 3, but now that Sam actually isn't coming back... should I continue and make it completely AU or... ? :/ I'm not sure yet... but I didn't want to stop this story for a while.**

**Please review and let me know you're still with me!**


	19. Family Dinner Pt 2

**A/N: Oh god. It's been way, way too long, I know. Since August. I'm really sorry if anyone has actually been waiting for an update, and it seems a few of you have been! ;~; I just don't get _quite_ as many Samtana feelings as I once did, so it's harder to write them. But somehow I'll try to wrap this story up.**

**I at least wanted to publish this since the last chapter didn't even technically end. **

**Oh goodness. I feel like I forgot how to write. The last bit of this was written pretty hastily. I don't even know what I'm doing with this whole Santana's mom storyline anymore lol.**

* * *

Sam drummed his fingers on the table nervously and then stopped after Santana shot him a look.

This really wasn't the way he had wanted a dinner with his girlfriend's mother to go. For one thing, he hadn't expected Santana's vivacious and rather loud Aunt Veronica to be present; for another thing, he hadn't expected Santana to be so intent on getting her mother angry.

But, this _was_ Santana, after all.

His gaze shifted from Mrs. Lopez' steely glare at her sister, currently rambling about some old high school boyfriend she had just reconnected with, to Santana, who was cutting her sweet potatoes in a dignified manner with a small smirk on her face. Santana's dad, in contrast to his sister-in-law's dominant attitude, was sitting at the end of the table looking meek and a bit concerned, but mostly just unwilling to cut into the conversation. Well, it was more of a monologue on Veronica's part: a conversation required two parties to be participating.

Sam stifled the urge to sigh and instead, noticing a lapse in Aunt Veronica's chattering, cleared his throat and spoke. "Mrs. Lopez, would you mind telling me the recipe for this chicken stew later? My mom's kind of hopeless in the kitchen."

Santana's mom gave him a small smile. "Of course. It's a family recipe, actually."

_Thank god_, Sam thought, as he had been prepared for a more icy response. Maybe there was some hope in salvaging this evening.

"Oh, I remember this stew from when we were kids!" Veronica exclaimed. "My sister here used to be horrible at cooking, too. I was the one who had to show her the ropes; and it's funny, too, usually the older sister would be the wiser!"

Sam inwardly groaned because Mrs. Lopez's face had gone from miraculously calm to severely irritated in five seconds flat.

"So, Veronica, you know the show choir club I'm in?" Santana asked innocently. "We're going to Nationals soon in New York and we've been fundraising for it."

Veronica gasped. "That's amazing, San! Isn't it amazing, Alita?" Sam, who had not known Santana's mother's name until now, glanced at her warily.

Mrs. Lopez- or, Alita- looked like she was holding some very choice words down her throat, and muttered, "_Amazing._"

Santana's aunt raised a brow, knowing sarcasm when she heard it. "You know, _hermana_, you should be more supportive of your daughter's musical endeavors."

"I will not be told how to raise my own daughter," Mrs. Lopez countered, her voice dangerously low.

Veronica continued as if she had not heard her sister, "When I was a teenager, I was in choir, as well. Obviously I was in the top competition choir, but I was also in the 'jazz choir' and we used to tour and it was so much fun-"

"_Veronica_!"

The entire table flinched a little at the outburst from Mrs. Lopez, even Santana.

"I don't want to hear about your silly high school singing adventures," Santana's mother said, her eyes wide with barely controlled rage. "Santana is not serious about music. She will not throw her life away with the notion that it will somehow bring her success and she will _certainly_ not be like you: Veronica, you don't even have a stable job! No stable income! You lean financially on all your boyfriends that come and go by the next week. I will not have your influence taint my daughter's thinking."

Uncomfortable silence filled the room. Sam could not remember when tension in an atmosphere had been so palpable.

"How do you know what I want, _Mother_?" Santana asked quietly but with bite. "You never ask me. How do you know I _don't_ want to pursue a career in music?" Mrs. Lopez opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Santana continued, "For the record, I don't. But it's not like you ask me. You don't ask me _anything_ about my life anymore. It's like you don't even care. At least Aunt Veronica is interested in what I'm doing." Sam noticed Santana's anger was dissipating now into something more vulnerable. She sounded hurt. His heart thumped with concern and anger at his own helplessness in the situation.

Mrs. Lopez's expression was considerably less hard but now she just looked defensive. "Santana-" she began.

"Save it," Santana cut off harshly, and stood up, her chair scraping against the wood floor.

Angry stomps on the stairwell reverberated throughout the house. Sam stared at his partially eaten dinner, not quite sure what to do. Glancing up, he noticed Mrs. Lopez and Veronica were not eating and her father had half-gotten up as if to go after Santana, so he took this chance to say, "Um... how about I help clean up?"

* * *

Sam and Mrs. Lopez washed dishes that were too large for the washing machine in silence as Veronica talked somewhat loudly on the phone in the living room; he assumed the conversation was with her newly acquired boyfriend, giving the abundant usage of words like "sweetie" and "honeycakes". Sam cringed at that last one.

"My relationship with my daughter was not always so... strained." The voice of Santana's mother startled Sam out of his reverie and he nearly dropped his pan. He waited patiently for her to continue, worried he'd somehow break this spell. Mrs. Lopez looked at Sam with a little more softness than usual. "I think you're good for my daughter."

Now _that _was certainly unexpected.

"Uh, I had kind of thought you'd rather Santana dating someone from... well, your neighborhood," Sam said with a wary laugh, certainly not eager to start an argument. But Mrs. Lopez had been making it obvious she didn't approve of Sam's background and lack of social status. Which, incidentally, was quite last century.

To his relief, Mrs. Lopez gave a small smile as she turned back to scrubbing her pan. "Well, you could use a little refinement. But that daughter of mine certainly could, too. I know I've come off a little _gruff_. I need to work on that." She sighed, her washing slowing down as she seemed to become lost in thought. "I really do."

Sam looked at her thoughtfully. "I think you should start by talking to Santana," he said, well aware he was skating on thin ice. "Not confronting. Just... talking."

Mrs. Lopez nodded, putting the pan in the sink. "I know."

* * *

As Mrs. Lopez went to go speak to her sister, Sam went out into the downstairs hall, only to find Santana ready to go into the kitchen, where he had been. Her arms were crossed in a somewhat defensive manner, but her face was contrite.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I can't believe I just walked out of there: especially with a guest in the house- my _boyfriend_, no less."

"It's fine," Sam assured her, smiling. "It wasn't conventional, but then, your family is a bit unconventional in itself."

Santana gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah, I guess it is, isn't it?"

As Sam grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, he turned. "I, uh... talked to your mom in the kitchen, there."

"Oh god- what'd she say?" Santana asked, her eyes wide with shock.

"Surprisingly enough, nothing bad!"

"You're kidding."

"Well, she did say I could use some refinement."

Santana raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "What improvement could _you_ need? She's the one who needs to stop acting so rigid."

Shrugging his jacket on, Sam sighed. "Yeah, it's true there's not much for me to improve on, you're right-"

Santana hit his arm, biting back a smile.

"-but I think your mom actually wants to fix this," Sam continued earnestly. "Just... talk to her later, okay?"

Santana was quiet for a bit, then nodded. They turned a little as they heard Mrs. Lopez and Veronica talking in the other room, and- was Mrs. Lopez actually _laughing_? Relieved, Sam bid Santana goodbye with a kiss on the cheek (though, Santana being Santana- turned his face for one on the lips) and left the Lopez house out into the cool night air, optimistic that perhaps a broken family could still be mended when some effort was involved.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews would still make my life. Let me know if you're still with me, and haven't deleted this off your story alerts? xD**


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